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THE 


AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

or 

/ 

EDWARD   GIBBOI,  ESQ., 


ILLUSTRATED    FROM   HIS    LETTERS,   WITH  OCCASIONAL 
NOTES  AND  NARRATIVES. 


BY  JOHN,  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


COMPLETE  IN  ONE  VOLUME. 


NEW- YORK : 
TURNER  &  HAYDEN. 

PIERCT  AND  REED,  PRINTKRS,  9  SPRUCE  STREET. 

1846. 


INTRODUCTORY  REMARKS 


The  melancholy  duty  of  examining  the  papers  of  my 
deceased  friend  devolved  upon  me  at  a  time  when  I  was 
depressed  by  severe  afflictions. 

In  that  state  of  mind,  I  hesitated  to  undertake  the  task 
of  selecting  and  preparing  his  manuscripts  for  the  press. 
The  warmth  of  my  early  and  long  attachment  to  Mr. 
Gibbon  made  me  conscious  of  a  partiality,  which  it  was 
not  proper  to  indulge,  especially  in  revising  many  of  his 
juvenile  and  unfinished  compositions.  I  had  to  guard, 
not  only  against  a  sentiment  like  my  own,  which  I  found 
extensively  diffused,  but  also  against  the  eagerness  occa- 
sioned by  a  very  general  curiosity  to  see  in  print  every 
literary  relic,  however  imperfect,  of  so  distinguished  a 
writer. 

Being  aware  how  disgracefully  authors  of  eminence 
have  been  often  treated,  by  an  indiscreet  posthumous 
publication  of  fragments  and  careless  effusions ;  when  I 
had  selected  those  papers  which  to  myself  appeared  the 


INTBODUCTORY  REMARKS. 


fittest  for  the  public  eye,  I  consulted  some  of  our  common 
friends,  whom  I  knew  to  be  equally  anxious  with  myself 
for  Mr.  Gibbon's  fame,  and  fully  competent,  from  their 
judgment,  to  protect  it. 

Under  such  a  sanction  it  is,  that,  no  longer  suspecting 
myself  to  view  through  too  favorable  a  medium  the  com- 
positions of  my  friend,  I  now  venture  to  publish  them ; 
and  it  may  here  be  proper  to  give  some  information  to 
the  reader,  respecting  the  Memoirs  of  Mr.  Gibbon's  life 
and  writings,  a  work  which  he  seems  to  have  projected 
with  peculiar  soUcitude  and  attention,  and  of  which  he 
left  six  different  sketches,  all  in  his  own  hand-writing. 
One  of  these  sketches,  the  most  diffuse  and  circumstantial, 
so  far  as  it  proceeds,  ends  at  the  time  when  he  quitted 
Oxford.  Another  at  the  year  1764,  when  he  travelled  to 
Italy.  A  third,  at  his  father's  death,  in  1770.  A  fourth, 
which  he  continued  to  a  short  time  after  his  return  to 
Lausanne  in  1788,  appears  in  the  form  of  Annals,  much 
less  detailed  than  the  others.  The  two  remaining  sketches 
are  still  more  imperfect.  It  is  difficult  to  discover  the 
order  in  which  these  several  pieces  were  written,  but 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  most  copious  was  the 
last.  From  all  these  the  following  Memoirs  have  been 
carefully  selected,  and  put  together. 

My  hesitation  in  giving  these  Memoirs  to  the  world, 
arose  principally  from  the  circumstance  of  Mr.  Gibbon's 
appearing,  in  some  respect,  not  to  have  been  satisfied 
with  them,  as  he  had  so  frequently  varied  their  fofm  : 
yet,  notwithstanding  this  diffidence,  the  compositions, 
though  unfinished,  are  so  excellent,  that  they  may  justly 
entitle  my  friend  to  appear  as  his  own  biographer,  rathei 


INTRODUCTORY  REMARKS. 


than  to  have  that  task  undertaken  by  any  other  person 
less  qualified  for  it. 

This  opinion  has  rendered  me  anxioiiw  to  publish  the 
present  Memoirs,  without  any  unnecessary  delay ;  for  I 
am  persuaded  that  the  author  of  them  cannot  be  made  to 
appear  in  a  truer  light  than  he  does  in  the  following 
pages.  In  them,  and  in  his  different  Letters  which  I 
have  added,  will  be  found  a  complete  picture  of  his 
talents,  his  disposition,  his  studies,  and  his  attainments. 

Those  slight  variations  of  character,  which  naturally 
arose  in  the  progress  of  his  life,  will  be  unfolded  in  a 
series  of  Letters,  selected  from  a  correspondence  between 
him  and  myself,  which  continued  full  thirty  years,  and 
ended  with  his  death. 

It  is  to  be  lamented,  that  the  sketches  of  the  Memoirs, 
except  that  composed  in  the  form  of  Annals,  and  which 
seems  rather  designed  as  heads  for  a  future  work,  cease 
about  twenty  years  before  Mr.  Gibbon's  death ;  and 
consequently,  that  we  have  the  least  detailed  account  of 
the  most  interesting  part  of  his  life.  His  correspondence 
during  that  period,  will,  in  great  measure,  supply  the  de- 
ficiency. By  many,  the  Letters  will  be  found  a  very 
interesting  part  of  the  present  publication.  They  will 
prove  how  pleasant,  friendly,  and  amiable  Mr.  Gibbon 
was  in  private  life ;  and  if,  in  publishing  letters  so  flat- 
tering to  myself,  I  incur  the  imputation  of  vanity,  I  shall 
meet  the  charge  with  a  frank  confession  that  I  am  indeed 
highly  vain  of  having  enjoyed,  for  so  many  years,  the 
esteem,  the  confidence,  and  the  affection  of  a  man,  whose 
social  qualities  endeared  him  to  the  most  accomplished 
society,  and  whose  talents,  great  as  they  were,  must  be 


INTRODUCTORY  REMARKS. 


acknowledged  to  have  been  fully  equalled  by  the  sin- 
cerity of  his  friendship. 

Whatever  censure  may  be  pointed  against  the  editor, 
the  public  will  set  a  due  value  on  the  Letters  for  their 
intrinsic  merit.  I  must,  indeed,  be  blinded,  either  by 
vanity  or  affection,  if  they  do  not  display  the  heart  and 
mind  of  their  author,  in  such  a  manner  as  justly  to  in- 
crease the  number  of  his  admirers. 

I  have  not  been  solicitous  to  garble  or  expunge  pas- 
sages which,  to  some,  may  appear  trifling.  Such  pas- 
sages will  often,  in  the  opinion  of  the  deserving  reader, 
mark  the  character  of  the  writer,  and  the  omission  of 
them  would  materially  take  from  the  ease  and  familiarity 
of  authentic  letters. 

Few  men,  I  believe,  have  ever  so  fully  unveiled  their 
own  character,  by  a  minute  narrative  of  their  sentiments 
and  pursuits,  as  Mr.  Gibbon  will  here  be  found  to  have 
done ;  not  with  study  and  labor — not  with  an  affected 
frankness,  but  with  a  genuine  confession  of  his  little 
foibles  and  peculiarities,  and  a  good-humored  and  natural 
display  of  his  own  conduct  and  opinions. 

I  will  close  all  I  mean  to  say,  as  the  editor  of  these 
Memoirs,  by  assuring  the  reader,  that,  although  I  have  in 
some  measure  newly  arranged  those  interesting  papers, 
by  forming  one  regular  narrative  from  the  six  different 
sketches,  I  have  nevertheless  adhered  with  scrupulous 
fidelity  to  the  very  words  of  their  author ;  and  I  use  the 
letter  S.  to  mark  such  notes  of  my  own,  as  it  seemed 
necessary  to  add. 

It  remains  only  to  express  a  wish,  that  in  discharging 
this  latest  office  of  affection,  my  regard  to  the  memory  of 


INTRODUCrOIlY  REMARKS. 


my  friend  may  appear,  as  I  trust  it  will  do,  proportioned 
to  the  high  satisfaction  which  I  enjoyed  for  many  years 
in  possessing  his  entire  confidence,  and  very  partial 
attachment. 

SHEFFIELD. 

Sheffield  Place,  Gth  Aug.,  1795. 


CONTEITS 


The  Author's  Introduction,     -         -  - 
CHAPTER  I. 

Account  and  Anecdotes  of  his  Family, 

CHAPTER  11. 

The  South  Sea  Scheme,        .  .  - 

CHAPTER  m. 

Character  of  Mr.  William  Law, 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Mr.  Gibbon's  Birth,  &c.,        .          -  - 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Author  is  sent  to  Dr.  Wooddeson's  School, 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Mr.  Gibbon  is  entered  at  Westminster  School, 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Author  enters  Magdalen  College,  Oxford, 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Author's  first  attempt  at  writing  History, 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Author  removes  to  Lausanne, 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  Author's  account  of  the  Books  he  read,  - 

CHAPTER  XL 
The  Author's  Tour  in  Switzerland, 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
Mademoiselle  Curchod — afterwards  Madame  Necker,  -         -  98 

CHAPTER  XIII 
Mr.  Gibbon  publishes  his  first  Work,   -  -         -         -  115 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Author  in  the  Hampshire  Militia,  -         -         .  125 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Author  resumes  his  Studies,        .         -         -         -  136 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
Mr.  Gibbon  at  Paris,    -          -         -  -         -         -  146 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Mr.  Gibbon  prepares  for  his  Italian  Journey,  -         -         -  162 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Mr.  Gibbon's  Tour  in  Italy,     -----  165 

CHAPTER  XIX.  I 
Mr.  Gibbon  commences  a  Periodical,  -  -         -          -  177 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Mr.  Gibbon  settles  in  London,  -          -         -         -  188 

CHAPTER  XXI.^ 
Mr.  Gibbon  engages  in  Politics,  .         _         _          .  204 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
The  Author  proceeds  with  his  History,  -         -         -  212 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
The  Author  visits  Sheffield,     -  -          -         -         -  224 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
Mr.  Gibbon  publishes  the  remainder  of  his  History,     -         -  227 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Death  of  Mr.  Deyverdun,        -----  235 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
Observations  on  the  French  Revolution,         -  -  -  237 

Narrative  continued  by  Lord  Sheffield,  ...  245 

Letters  from  Edward  Gibbon,  Esq.  to  Lord  Sheffield  and  others,  207 


AUTO-BIO&RAPHY 

OF 

EDWARD  GIBBOI,  ESQ. 


MEMOIRS 


OF 


MY  LIFE  AND  WRITIiaS. 


In  the  fifty-second  year  of  my  age,  after  the  comple- 
tion of  an  arduous  and  successful  work,  I  now  propose  to 
employ  some  moments  of  my  leisure  in  reviewing  the 
simple  transactions  of  a  private  and  literary  life.  Truth, 
naked,  unblushing  truth,  the  first  virtue  of  more  serious 
history,  must  be  the  sole  recommendation  of  this  personal 
narrative.  The  style  shall  be  simple  and  familiar ;  but 
style  is  the  image  of  character  ;  and  the  habits  of  correct 
writing  may  produce,  without  labor  or  design,  the  ap- 
pearance of  art  and  study.  My  own  amusement  is  my 
motive,  and  will  be  my  reward  ;  and  if  these  sheets  are 
communicated  to  some  discreet  and  indulgent  friends,  they 
will  be  secreted  from  the  public  eye  till  the  author  shall 
be  removed  beyond  the  reach  of  criticism  or  ridicule.* 


THE  AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION. 


*  This  passage  is  fouud  in  one  only  of  the  six  sketches,  and  in  that  which 
seems  to  have  been  the  first  written,  and  which  was  laid  aside  among  loose 


2 


MEMOIRS  OF  MY  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS. 


A  lively  desire  of  knowing  and  of  recording  our  ances- 
tors so  generally  prevails,  that  it  must  depend  on  the  influ- 
ence of  some  common  principle  in  the  minds  of  men.  We 
seem  to  have  lived  in  the  persons  of  our  forefathers ;  it  is 
the  labor  and  reward  of  vanity  to  extend  the  term  of  this 
ideal  longevity.  Our  imagination  is  always  active  to 
enlarge  the  narrow  circle  in  which  nature  has  confined 
us.  Fifty  or  a  hundred  years  may  be  allotted  to  an  indi- 
vidual, but  we  step  forwards  beyond  death  with  such 
hopes  as  religion  and  philosophy  will  suggest ;  and  we 
fill  up  the  silent  vacancy  that  precedes  our  birth,  by  asso- 
ciating ourselves  to  the  authors  of  our  existence.  Our 
calmer  judgment  will  rather  tend  to  moderate,  than  to 
suppress,  the  pride  of  an  ancient  and  worthy  race.  The 
satirist  may  laugh,  the  philosopher  may  preach ;  but 
Reason  herself  will  respect  the  prejudices  and  habits, 
which  have  been  consecrated  by  the  experience  of 
mankind. 

Wherever  the  distinction  of  birth  is  allowed  to  form  a 
superior  order  in  the  state,  education  and  example  should 
always,  and  will  often,  produce  among  them  a  dignity  of 

papers.  Mr.  Gibbon,  in  bis  communications  with  me  on  the  subject  of  his 
Memoirs,  a  subject  which  he  had  never  mentioned  to  any  other  person,  ex- 
pressed a  determination  of  pubhshing  them  in  his  lifetime;  and  never  ap- 
pears to  have  departed  from  that  resolution,  excepting  in  one  of  his  letters 
amiexed,  in  which  he  intimates  a  doubt,  though  rather  carelessly,  whether 
in  his  time,  or  at  any  time,  they  would  meet  the  eye  of  the  public.  In  a 
convei-sation,  however,  not  long  before  his  death,  it  was  suggested  to  him, 
that,  if  he  should  make  them  a  full  image  of  his  mind,  he  would  not  have 
nerves  to  publish  them  in  his  lifetime,  and  therefore  that  they  should  be 
posthumous.  He  answered,  rather  eagerly,  that  he  was  determined  to 
publish  them  in  his  lifetime. — iS. 


MEMOIRS  OF  MY  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS. 


3 


sentiment,  and  propriety  of  conduct,  which  is  guarded 
from  dishonour  by  their  own  and  the  pubhc  esteem.  If 
we  read  of  some  illustrious'hne  so  ancient  that  it  has  no 
beginning,  so  worthy  that  it  ought  to  have  no  end,  we  sym- 
pathise in  its  various  fortunes ;  nor  can  we  blame  the 
generous  enthusiasm,  or  even  the  harmless  vanity,  of 
those  who  are  allied  to  the  honours  of  its  name.    For  my 
own  part,  could  I  draw  my  pedigree  from  a  general,  a 
statesman,  <jr  a  celebrated  author,  I  should  study  their 
lives  with  the  diligence  of  filial  love.    In  the  investiga- 
tion of  past  events,  our  curiosity  is  stimulated  by  the  im- 
mediate or.  indirect  reference  to  ourselves;  but  in  the 
estimate  of  honour  we  should  learn  to  value  the  gifts  of 
Nature  above  those  of  Fortune ;  to  esteem  in  our  ances- 
tors the  qualities  that  best  promote  the  interests  of  so- 
ciety ;  and  to  pronounce  the  descendant  of  a  king  less 
truly  noble  than  the  offspring  of  a  man  of  genius,  whose 
writings  will  instruct  or  delight  the  latest  posterity.  The 
family  of  Confucius  is,  in  my  opinion,  the  most  illustrious 
in  the  world.    After  a  painful  ascent  of  eight  or  ten  cen- 
turies, our  barons  and  princes  of  Europe  are  lost  in  the 
darkness  of  the  middle  ages  ;  but,  in  the  vast  equality  of 
the  empire  of  China,  the  posterity  of  Confucius  have 
maintained,  above  two  thousand  two  hundred  years,  their 
peaceful  honours  and  perpetual  succession.    The  chief  of 
the  family  is  still  revered,  by  the  sovereign  and  the  peo- 
ple, as  the  lively  image  of  the  wisest  of  mankind.  The 
nobility  of  the  Spencers  has  been  illustrated  and  enriched 
by  the  trophies  of  Marlborough ;  but  I  exhort  them  to 
consider  the  Fairy  Queen  as  the  most  precious  jewel  of 
their  coronet.    I  have  exposed  my  private  feelings,  as  I 


4 


MEMOIRS  OF  MY  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS. 


shall  always  do,  without  scruple  or  reserve.  That  these 
sentiments  are  just,  or  at  lea«t  natural,  I  am  inclined  to 
believe,  since  I  do  not  feel  myself  interested  in  the  cause ; 
for  I  can  derive  from  my  ancestors  neither  glory  nor 
shame. 

Yet  a  sincere  and  simple  narrative  of  my  own  life  may 
amuse  some  of  my  leisure  hours ;  but  it  will  subject  me, 
and  perhaps  with  justice,  to  the  imputation  of  vanity.  I 
may  judge,  however,  from  the  experience  both  of  past 
and  of  the  present  times,  that  the  public  are  always 
curious  to  know  the  men,  who  have  left  behind  them  any 
image  of  their  minds :  the  most  scanty  accounts  of  such 
men  are  compiled  with  diligence,  and  perused  with  eager- 
ness ;  and  the  student  of  every  class  may  derive  a  lesson, 
or  an  example,  from  the  lives  most  similar  to  his  own. 
My  name  may  hereafter  be  placed  among  the  thousand 
articles  of  a  Biographia  Britannica ;  and  I  must  be  con- 
scious, that  no  one  is  so  well  qualified,  as  myself,  to 
describe  the  series  of  my  thoughts  and  actions.  The 
authority  of  my  masters,  of  the  grave  Thaunus,  and  the 
philosophic  Hume,  might  be  sufficient  to  justify  my  de- 
sign ;  but  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  produce  a  long  list 
of  ancients  and  moderns,  who,  in  various  forms,  have  ex- 
hibited their  own  portraits.    Such  portraits  are  often  the 
most  interesting,  and  sometimes  the  only  interesting  pai'ts 
of  their  writings ;  and,  if  they  be  sincere,  we  seldom  com- 
plain of  the  minuteness  or  proximity  of  these  personal 
memorials.    The  lives  of  the  younger  Pliny,  of  Petrarch, 
and  of  Erasmus,  are  expressed  in  the  epistles,  which  they 
themselves  have  given  to  the  world.    The  essays  of 
Montaigne  and  Sir  William  Temple  brings  us  home  to 


MEMOIRS  OF  MY  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS. 


5 


the  houses  and  bosoms  of  the  authors :  we  smile  without 
contempt  at  the  headstrong 'passions  of  Benevenuto  Cil- 
lini,  and  the  gay  folUes  of  Colley  Gibber.  The  confessions 
of  St.  Austin  and  Rousseau  disclose  the  secrets  of  the  hu- 
man heart :  the  commentaries  of  the  learned  Huet  have 
survived  his  evangelical  demonstration  ;  and  the  memoirs 
of  Goldoni  are  more  truly  dramatic  than  his  Italian  com- 
edfes.  The  heretic  and  the  churchman  are  strongly 
marked  in  the  characters  and  fortunes  of  Whiston  and 
Bishop  Newton;  and  even  the  dulness  of  Michael  de 
Marolles  and  Anthony  Wood  acquires  some  value  from 
the  faithful  representation  of  men  and  manners.  That  I 
am  equal  or  superior  to  some  of  these,  the  effects  of  mo- 
desty or  affectation  cannot  force  me  to  dissemble. 


CHAP.  I. 


ACCOUNT  AND  ANECDOTES  OF  HIS  FAMILY. 

My  family  is  originally  derived  from  the  county  of 
Kent.  The  southern  district,  which  borders  on  Sussex 
and  the  sea,  was  formerly  overspread  with  the  great  fo- 
rest Andcrida,  and  even  now  retains  the  denomination  of 
the  Weald,  or  Woodland.  In  this  district,  and  in  the 
hundred  and  parish  of  Rolvenden,  the  Gibbons  were  pos- 
sessed of  lands  in  the  year  one  thousand  three  hundred 
and  twenty-six  ;  and  the  elder  branch  of  the  family,  with- 
out much  increase  or  diminution  of  property,  still  adheres 
to  its  native  soil.  Fourteen  years  after  the  first  appear- 
ance of  his  name,  John  Gibbon  is  recorded  as  the  Mar- 
morarius  or  architect  of  King  Edward  the  Third :  the 
strong  and  stately  castle  of  Queensborough,  which 
guarded  the  entrance  of  the  Medway,  was  a  monument 
of  his  skill ;  and  the  grant  of  an  hereditary  toll  on  the 
passage  from  Sandwich  to  Stonar,  in  the  Isle  of  Thanet, 
is  the  reward  of  no  vulgar  artist.  In  the  visitations  of 
the  heralds,  the  Gibbons  are  frequently  mentioned  ;  they 
held  the  rank  of  esquire  in  an  age,  when  that  title  was 
less  promiscuously  assumed  :  one  of  them,  under  the  reign 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  was  captain  of  the  militia  of  Kent ; 
and  a  free  school,  in  the  neighboring  town  of  Bencnden, 
proclaims  the  charity  and  opulence  of  its  founder.  But 


ACCOUNT  AND  ANECDOTES  OF  HIS  FAMILY. 


7 


time,  or  their  own  obscurity,'  has  cast  a  veil  of  oblivion 
over  the  virtues  and  vices  of  my  Kentsh  ancestors ;  their 
character  or  station  confined  them  to  the  labours  and 
pleasures  of  a  rural  life :  nor  is  it  in  my  power  to  follow 
the  advice  of  the  poet,  in  an  enquiry  after  a  name — 

"  Go  search  it  there,  where  to  be  born,  and  die, 
Of  rich  and  poor  makes  all  the  history." 

So  recent  is  the  institution  of  our  parish  registers.  In 
the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  a  younger 
branch  of  the  Gibbons,  of  Rolvenden,  migrated  from  the 
country  to  the  city ;  and  from  this  branch  I  do  not  blush 
to  descend.  The  law  requires  some  abilities ;  the  church 
imposes  some  restraints ;  and  before  our  army  and  navy, 
our  civil  establishments,  and  Indian  empire,  had  opened  so 
many  paths  to  fortune,  the  mercantile  profession  was 
more  frequently  chosen  by  youth  of  a  liberal  race  and 
education,  who  aspired  to  create  their  own  independence. 
Our  most  respectable  families  have  not  disdained  the 
counting-house,  or  even  the  shop ;  their  names  are 
enrolled  in  the  livery  and  companies  of  London ;  and  in 
England,  as  well- as  in  the  Italian  commonwealths,  heralds 
have  been  compelled  to  declare,  that  gentility  is  not  de- 
graded by  the  exercise  of  trade. 

The  armorial  ensigns  which,  in  the  times  of  chivalry, 
adorned  the  crest  and  shield  of  the  soldier,  are  now  be- 
come an  empty  decoration,  which  every  man,  who  has 
money  to  build  a  carriage,  may  paint  according  to  his 
fancy  on  the  panels.  My  family  arms  are  the  same  which 
were  borne  by  the  Gibbons  of  Kent  in  an  age,  when  the 
College  of  Heralds  religiously  guarded  the  distinctions  of 


8 


ACCOUNT  AND  ANECDOTES  OF  HIS  FAMILY. 


blood  and  name :  a  lion  rampant  gardant,  between  three 
scallop-shells  argent,  on  a  field  azure.*  I  should  not  how- 
ever have  been  tempted  to  blazon  my  coat  of  arms,  were 
it  not  connected  with  a  whimsical  anecdote. — About  the 
reign  of  James  the  First,  the  three  harmless  scallop-shells 
were  changed  by  Edmund  Gibbon,  Esq.,  into  three  ogreses, 
or  female  cannibals,  with  a  design  of  stigmatizing  three 
ladies,  his  kinswomen,  who  had  provoked  him  by  an  un- 
just lawsuit.  But  this  singular  mode  of  revenge,  for  which 
he  obtained  the  sanction  of  Sir  William  Seager,  king-at- 
ai'ms,  soon  expii'ed  with  its  author ;  and,  on  his  own 
monument  in  the  Temple  Church,  the  monsters  vanish, 
and  the  three  scallop-shells  resume  their  proper  and 
hereditary  place. 

Our  alliances  by  marriage  it  is  not  disgraceful  to  men- 
tion. The  chief  honour  of  my  ancestry  is  James  Fiens, 
Baron  Say  and  Seale,  rfhd  Lord  High  Treasurer  of  Eng- 
land, in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Sixth ;  from  whom  by  the 
Phelips,  the  Whetnalls,  and  the  Cromers,  I  am  lineally 
descended  in  the  eleventh  degree.  His  dismission  and 
imprisonment  in  the  Tower  were  insufficient  to  appease 
the  popular  clamor ;  and  the  ti  easurer,  with  his  son-in-law 
Cromoj",  was  beheaded  (1450),  after  a  mock  trial  by  the 
Kentish  insurgents.  The  black  list  of  his  offences,  as  it 
is  exhibited  in  Shakespeare,  displays  the  ignorance  and 
envy  of  a  plcbian  tyrant.  Besides  the  vague  reproaches 
of  selling  Maine  and  Normandy  to  the  Dauphin,  the  trea- 

*  The  father  of  Lord  Chancellor  Hardwicke  married  aii  heiress  of  tliis 
family  of  Gibbou.  The  chancellor's  escutcheou  in  the  Temple  Hall,  quar- 
ters the  arms  of  Gibbon,  as  does  also  that  in  Liucolu's  lun  Hall,  of  Charles 
York,  Chancellor  iu  1770.-8. 


ACCOUNT  AND  ANECDOTES  OF  HIS  FAMILY. 


9 


surer  is  specially  accused  of  luxury,  for  riding  on  a  foot- 
cloth  ;  and  of  treason,  for  speaking  French,  the  language 
of  our  enemies  : — "  Thou  hast  most  traitorously  corrupted 
the  youth  of  the  realm,"  says  Jack  Cade  to  the  unfortu- 
nate lord,  "  in  erecting  a  grammar-school ;  and  whereas 
before  our  forefathers  had  no  other  books  than  the  score 
and  the  tally,  thou  hast  caused  printing  to  be  used ;  and, 
contrary  to  the  king,  his  crown,  and  dignity,  thou  hast 
built  a  paper-mill.  It  will  be  proved  in  thy  face,  that 
thou  hast  men  about  thee  who  usually  talk  of  a  noun 
and  a  verb,  and  such  abominable  words,  as  no  christian 
ear  can  endure  to  hear."  Our  dramatic  poet  is  generally 
more  attentive  to  character  than  to  history ;  and  I  much 
fear  that  the  art  of  printing  was  not  introduced  into  Eng- 
land till  several  years  after  Lord  Say's  death ;  but  of 
some  of  these  meritorious  crimes  I  should  hope  to  find  my 
ancestor  guilty ;  and  a  man  ol  letters  may  be  proud  of  his 
descent  from  a  patron  and  martyr  of  learning. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  last  century,  Robert  Gibbon, 
Esq.,  of  Rolvenden,  in  Kent,  (who  died  in  1618,)  had 
a  son  of  the  same  name  of  Robert,  who  settled  in 
London,  and  became  a  member  of  the  Cloth-workers' 
Company.  His  wife  was  a  daughter  of  the  Edgars,  who 
flourished  about  four  hundred  years  in  the  county  of  Suf- 
folk, and  produced  an  eminent  and  wealthy  sergeant-at- 
law,  Sir  Gregory  Edgar,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Sev- 
enth. Of  the  sons  of  Robert  Gibbon,  (who  died  in  1643,) 
Matthew  did  not  aspire  above  the  station  of  a  linen- 
draper  in  Leadenhall-street ;  but  John  has  givan  to  the 
public  some  curious  memorials  of  his  existence,  his  cha- 
racter, and  his  family.    He  was  born  on  the  3d  of  Novem- 


10 


ACCOUNT  AND  ANECDOTES  OF  HIS  FAMILY. 


ber  in  the  year  1629;  his  education  was  hberal,  at  a 
grammar  school,  and  afterwards  in  Jesus  College  at  Cam- 
bridge ;  and  he  celebrates  the  retired  content  which  he 
enjoyed  at  Allesborough  in  Worcestershire,  in  the  house 
of  Thomas  Lord  Coventry,  where  John  Gibbon  was  em- 
ployed as  a  domestic  tutor,  the  same  office  which  Mr. 
Hobbes  exercised  in  the  Devonshire  family.    But  the 
spirit  of  my  kinsman  soon  immerged  into  more  active 
life ;  he  visited  foreign  countries  as  a  soldier  and  a  tra- 
veller, acquired  the  knowledge  of  the  French  and  Spanish 
languages,  passed  some  time  in  the  Isle  of  Jersey,  crossed 
the  Atlantic,  and  resided  upwards  of  a  twelvemonth 
(1659)  in  the  rising  colony  of  Virginia.    In  this  remote 
province,  his  taste,  or  rather  passion,  for  heraldry,  found 
a  singular  gratification  at  a  war-dance  of  the  native  In- 
dians.   As  they  moved  in  measured  steps,  brandishing 
their  tomahawks,  his  curious  eye  contemplated  their  little 
shields  of  bark,  and  their  naked  bodies,  which  were 
painted  with  the  colours  and  symbols  of  his  favourite  sci- 
ence.   "  At  which  I  exceedingly  wondered ;  and  con- 
cluded that  heraldry  was  ingrafted  naturally  into  the 
sense  of  human  race.    If  so,  it  deserves  a  greater  esteem 
than  now-a-days  is  put  upon  it."    His  return  to  England 
after  the  Restoration  was  soon  followed  by  his  marriage 
— his  settlement  in  a  house  in  St.  Catharine's  Cloister, 
near  the  Tower,  which  devolved  to  my  grandfather — and 
his  introduction  intotho  Heralds'  College  (in  1671)  by  the 
style  and  title  of  Blue-mantle  Pursuivant  at  Arms.    In  this 
office  he  enjoyed  near  fifty  years  the  rare  felicity  of 
uniting,  in  the  same  pursuit,  his  study  and  inclination :  his 
name  is  remembered  in  the  College,  and  many  of  his  let- 


ACCOUNT  AND  ANECDOTES  OF  HIS  FAMILY. 


H 


ters  are  still  preserved.  Several  of  the  most  respectable 
characters  of  the  age,  Sir  WilHam  Dugdale,Mr.  Ashmole, 
Dr.  John  Betts,  and  Dr.  Nehemiah  Grew,  were  his  friends ; 
and  in  the  society  of  such  men,  John  Gibbon  may  be 
recorded  without  disgrace  as  the  member  of  an  astrologi- 
cal club.  The  study  of  hereditary  honours  is  favourable 
to  the  royal  prerogative ;  and  my  kinsman,  like  most  of 
his  family,  was  a  high  Tory  both  in  church  and  state. 
In  the  latter  end  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second,  his 
pen  was  exercised  in  the  cause  of  the  Duke  of  York :  the 
Republican  faction  he  most  cordially  detested ;  and  as 
each  animal  is  conscious  of  its  proper  arms,  the  heralds' 
revenge  was  emblazoned  on  a  most  diabolical  escutcheon. 
Bat  the  triumph  of  the  Whig  government  checked  the 
preferment  of  Blue-mantle ;  and  he  was  even  suspended 
^rom  his  ofRce  till  his  tongue  could  learn  to  pronounce  the 
oath  of  abjuration.  His  life  was  prolonged  to  the  age  of 
ninety ;  and,  in  the  expectation  of  the  inevitable  though 
uncertain  hour,  he  wished  to  preserve  the  blessings  of 
health,  competence,  and  virtue.  In  the  year  16S2  he 
published  at  London  his  Introductio  ad  Latinam  Blaso- 
niam,  an  original  attempt,  which  Camden  had  desiderated, 
to  define,  in  a  Roman  idiom,  the  terms  and  attributes  of  a 
Gothic  institution.  It  is  not  two  years  since  I  acquired 
in  a  foreign  land,  some  domestic  intelligence  of  my  own 
family;  and  this  intelligence  was  conveyed  to  Switzer-' 
land  from  the  heart  of  Germany.  I  had  formed  an  ac- 
quaintance with  Mr.  Langer,  a  lively  and  ingenious 
scholar,  while  he  resided  at  Lausanne  as  preceptor  to  the 
hereditary  Prince  of  Brunswick.  On  his  return  to  his  . 
proper  station  of  librarian  to  the  ducal  library  of  Wolfcn- 


12 


ACCOUNT  AND  ANECDOTES  OF  HIS  FAMILY. 


buttel,  he  accidentally  found  among  some  literary  rubbish 
a  small  old  English  volume  of  heraldry,  inscribed  with 
the  name  of  John  Gibbon.  From  the  title  only  Mr, 
Langer  judged  that  it  might  be  an  acceptable  present  to 
his  friend  ;  and  he  judged  rightly.  His  manner  is  quaint 
and  affected ;  his  order  is  confused :  but  he  displays 
some  wit,  more  reading,  and  still  more  enthusiasm;  and 
if  an  enthusiast  be  often  absurd,  he  is  never  languid.  An 
English  text  is  perpetually  interspersed  with  Latin  sen- 
tences in  prose  and  verse ;  but  in  his  own  poetry  he 
claims  an  exemption  from  the  laws  of  prosody.  Amidst  ^ 
a  profusion  of  genealogical  knowledge,  my  kinsman 
could  not  be  fo^jgetful  of  his  own  name  ;  and  to  him  I  am 
indebted  for  almost  the  whole  of  my  information  concern- 
ing the  Gibbon  family.  From  this  small  work  (a  duo- 
decimo of  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  pages)  the  author 
expected  immortal  fame :  and  at  the  conclusion  of  his 
labour  he  sings,  in  a  strain  of  self-exultation : 

"  Usque  hue  corrigitur  Romana  Blasonia  per  me 
Veiborumquo  dehinc  barbava  forma  cadat. 
Hie  liber,  in  meritum  si  forsitan  iiicidet  usum, 

Testis  rite  meae  sedulitatis  erit. 
Quicquid  agat  Zoilus,  veiitura  fatebitur,  aetas 
Artis  quod  fueram  uon  Clypeai-is  inops." 

Such  are  the  hopes  of  authors !  In  the  failure  of  those 
hopes  John  Gibbon  has  not  been  the  first  of  his  profession, 
and  very  possib  y  may  not  be  the  last  of  his  name.  His 
brother  Matthew  Gibbon,  the  draper,  had  one  daughter 
and  two  sons — my  grandfather  Edward,  who  was  born 
in  the  year  1666,  and  Thomas,  afterwards  Dean  of 
Carlisle.    According  to  the  mercantile  creed,  that  the 


t 


ACCOUNT  AND  ANECDOTES  OF  HIS  FAMILY.  13 

best  book  is  a  profitable  ledger,  the  writings  of  John  the 
herald  would  be  much  less  precious  than  than  those  of 
his  nephew  Edward :  but  an  author  professes  at  least  to 
write  for  the  public  benefit ;  and  the  slow  balance  of  trade 
can  be  pleasing  to  those  persons  only,  to  whom  it  is 
advantageous.  The  successful  industry  of  my  granfather 
raised  him  above  the  level  of  his  immediate  ancestors ; 
he  appears  to  have  launched  into  various  and  extensive 
dealings:  even  his  opinions  were  subordinate  to  his  in- 
terest ;  and  I  find  him  in  Flanders  clothing  King  Wil- 
liam's troops,  while  he  would  have  contracted  with  more 
pleasure,  though  not  perhaps  at  a  cheaper  rate,  for  the 
service  of  King  James.  During  his  residence  abroad, 
his  concerns  at  home  were  managed  by  his  mother 
Hester,  an  active  and  notable  woman.  Her  second 
husband  was  a  widower,  of  the  name  of  Acton :  they 
united  the  children  of  their  first  nuptials.  After  his  mar- 
riage with  the  daughter  of  Richard  Acton,  goldsmith  in 
Leadenhall-street,  he  gave  his  own  sister  to  Sir  Whitmore 
Acton,  of  Aldenham ;  and  I  am  thus  connected,  by  a  tri- 
ple alliance,  with  that  ancient  and  loyal  family  of  Shrop- 
shire baronets.  It  consisted  about  that  time  of  seven 
brothers,  all  of  gigantic  stature ;  one  of  whom,  a  pigm)' 
of  six  feet  two  inches,  confessed  himself  the  last  and  least 
of  the  seven  ;  adding,  in  the  true  spirit  of  party,  that  such 
men  were  not  born  since  the  Revolution.  Under  the 
Tory  administration  of  the  four  last  years  of  Queen  Ann 
(1710 — 1714),  Mr.  Edward  Gibbon  was  appointed  one  of 
the  Commissioners  of  the  Customs  ;  he  sat  at  that  board 
with  Prior :  but  the  merchant  was  better  qualified  for  his 
station  than  the  poet ;  since  Lord  Bolingbroke  has  been 


14 


ACCOUNT  AND  ANECDOTES  OF  HIS  FAMILY. 


heard  to  declare,  that  he  had  never  conversed  with  a  man, 
^ho  more  clearly  understood  the  commerce  and  finances 
of  England.  In  the  year  1716  he  vs^as  elected  one  of  the 
directors  of  the  South  Sea  Company  ;  and  his  books  ex- 
hibited the  proof  that,  before  his  acceptance  of  this  fatal 
office,  he  had  acquired  an  independent  fortune  of  sixty 
thousand  pounds. 


CHAP.  II. 

THE  SOUTH  SEA  SCHEME. 

But  his  fortune  was  overwhelmed  in  the  shipwreck  of 
the  year  twenty,  and  the  labours  of  thirty  years  were 
blasted  in  a  single  day.  Of  the  use  or  abuse  of  the  South 
Sea  scheme,  of  the  guilt  or  innocence  of  my  grandfather  and 
his  brother  directors,  I  am  neither  a  competent  nor  a  dis- 
interested judge.  Yet  the  equity  of  modem  limes  must 
condemn  the  violent  and  arbitrary  proceedings,  which 
would  have  disgraced  the  cause  of  justice,  and  would 
render  injustice  still  more  odious.  No  sooner  had  the 
nation  awakened  from  its  golden  dream,  than  a  popular 
and  even  a  parliamentary  claniour  demanded  their  vic- 
tims :  but  it  was  acknowledged  on  all  sides  that  the  South 
Sea  directors,  however  guilty,  could  not  be  touched  by 
any  known  laws  of  the  land.  The  speech  of  Lord  Moles- 
worth,  the  author  of  the  State  of  Denmark,  may  show  the 
temper,  or  rather  the  intemperance,  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. "  Extraordinary  crimes,"  exclaimed  that  ardent 
Whig,  "call  aloud  for  extraordinary  remedies.  The 
Roman  lawgivers  had  not  foreseen  the  possible  existence 
of  a  parricide :  but  as  scon  as  the  first  monster  appeared, 
he  was  sewn  in  a  sack,  and  thrown  headlong  into  the 
river ;  and  I  shall  be  content  to  inflict  the  same  treatment 
on  the  authors  of  our  present  ruin."    His  motion  was  not 


16 


THE  SOUTH  SEA  SCHEME. 


literally  adopted ;  but  a  bill  of  pains  and  penalties  was  intro- 
duced, a  retroactive  statute,  to  punish  the  offences,  which 
did  not  exist  at  the  time  they  were  committed.  Such  a 
pernicious  violation  of  liberty  and  law  can  be  excused 
only  by  the  most  imperious  necessity ;  nor  could  it  be 
defended  on  this  occasion  by  the  plea  of  impending  dan- 
ger or  useful  example.  The  legislature  restrained  the 
persons  of  the  directors,  imposed  an  exorbitant  security 
for  their  appearance,  and  marked  their  characters  with  a 
previous  note  of  ignominy :  they  were  compelled  to  deli- 
ver, upon  oath,  the  strict  value  of  their  estates  ;  and  were 
disabled  for  making  any  transfer  or  alienation  of  any  part 
of  their  property.  Against  a  bill  of  pains  and  penalties  it 
is  the  common  right  of  every  subject  to  be  heard  by  his 
counsel  at  the  bar :  they  prayed  to  be  heard ;  their  prayer 
was  refused ;  and  their  oppressors,  who  required  no 
evidence,  would  listen  to  no  defence.  It  had  been  at  first 
proposed  that  one-eighth  of  their  respective  estates  should 
be  allowed  for  the  future  support  of  the  directors;  but  it  was 
specially  urged,  that  in  the  various  shades  of  opulence 
and  guilt  such  an  unequal  proportion  would  be  too  light 
for  some,  and  for  some  might  possible  be  too  heavy.  The 
character  and  conduct  of  each  man  were  separately 
weighed ;  but  instead  of  the  calm  solemnity  of  a  judicial 
inquiry,  the  fortune  and  honour  of  three  and  thirty  Eng- 
lishmen were  made  the  topic  of  hasty  coversation,  the 
sport  of  a  lawless  majority  ;  and  the  basest  member  of 
the  committee,  by  a  malicious  word  or  a  silent  vote,  might 
indulge  his  general  spleen  or  personal  animosity.  Injury 
was  aggravated  by  insult,  and  insult  was  embittered  by 
pleasantry.    Allowances  of  twenty  pounds,  or  one  shil- 


THE  SOUTH  SEA  SCHEME. 


17 


ling,  were  facetiously  moved.  A  vague  report  that  a 
director  had  formerly  been  concerned  in  another  project, 
by  which  some  unknown  persons  had  lost  their  money, 
was  admitted  as  a  proof  of  his  actual  guilt.  One  man 
was  ruined  because  he  had  dropped  a  foolish  speech,  that 
his  horses  should  feed  upon  gold ;  another  because  he 
was  grown  so  proud,  that,  one  day  at  the  Treasury,  he 
had  refused  a  civil  answer  to  persons  much  above  him. 
All  were  condemned,  absent  and  unheard,  in  arbitrary 
fines  and  forfeitures,  which  swept  away  the  greatest  part 
of  their  substance.  Such  bold  oppression  can  scarcely  be 
shielded  by  the  omnipotence  of  parliament ;  and  yet  it 
may  be  seriously  questioned,  whether  the  judges  of  the 
South  Sea  directors  were  the  true  and  legal  represen- 
tatives of  the  country.  The  first  parliament  of  George  the 
First  had  been  chosen  (1715)  for  three  years:  the  term 
had  elapsed,  their  trust  was  expired ;  and  the  four  addi- 
tional years  (1718 — 1722),  during  which  they  continued  to 
sit,  were  derived  not  from  the  people,  but  from  them- 
selves ;  from  the  strong  measures  of  the  septennial  bill, 
which  can  only  be  paralleled  by  il  serar  di  consiglio  of 
the  Venetian  history.  Yet  candor  will  own  that  to.  the 
same  parliament  every  Englishman,  is  deeply  indebted : 
the  septennial  act,  so  vicious  in  its  origin,  has  been  sanc- 
tioned by  time,  experience,  and  the  national  consent.  Its 
first  operation  secured  the  House  of  Hanover  on  the 
throne,  and  its  permanent  influence  maintains  the  peace 
and  stability  of  government.  As  often  as  a  repeal  has 
been  moved  in  the  House  of  Commons,  I  have  given  in 
its  defence  a  clear  and  conscientious  vote. 

My  grandfather  could  not  expect  to  be-  treated  with 


-8 


THE  SOUTH  SEA  SCHEME. 


more  lenity  than  his  companions.  His  Tory  principles 
and  connections  rendered  him  obnoxious  to  the  ruHng 
powers :  his  name  is  reported  in  a  suspicious  secret ;  and 
his  well-known  abilities  could  not  plead  the  excuse  of 
ignorance  or  error,  In  the  first  proceedings  against  the 
South  Sea  directors,  Mr.  Gibbon  is  one  of  the  few  who 
were  taken  into  custody ;  and,  in  the  final  sentence,  the 
measures  of  his  fine  proclaims  him  eminently  guilty 
The  total  estimate  which  he  delivered  on  oath  to  the 
House  of  Commons  amounted  to  one  hundred  and  six 
thousand  five  hundred  and  forty-three  pounds  five  shil- 
lings and  sixpence,  exclusive  of  antecedent  settlements. 

Two  different  allowances  of  fifteen  and  of  ten  thousand 
pounds  were  moved  for  Mr.  Gibbon :  but,  on  the  question 
being  put,  it  was  carried  without  a  division  for  the 
smaller  sum.  On  these  ruins,  with  the  skill  and  credit  of 
which  parUament  had  not  been  able  to  despoil  him,  my 
grandfather  at  a  mature  age  erected  the  edifice  of  a  new 
fortune :  the  labours  of  sixteen  years  were  amply  re- 
warded ;  and  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  the  second 
structure  was  not  much  inferior  to  the  first.  He  had 
realized  a  very  considerable  property  in  Sussex,  Hamp- 
shire, Buckinghamshire  and  the  New  River  Company : 
and  had  acquired  a  spacious  house,*  with  gardens  and 
lands,  at  Putney,  in  Surrey,  where  he  resided  in  decent 
hospitality.  He  died  in  December,  1736,  at  the  age  of 
seventy :  and  by  his  last  will,  at  the  expense  of  Edward, 
his  only  son,  (with  whose  marriage  he  was  not  perfectly 
reconciled,)  enriched  his  two  daughters,  Catharine  and 


•  Since  inhabited  by  Mr.  Wood,  Sir  John  Shelly,  Duke  of  Norfolk,  &c. 


IHE  SOUTH  SEA  SCHEME. 


19 


Hester.  The  former  became  the  wife  of  Mr.  Edward 
Elliston,  an  East  India  captain:  their  daughter  and 
heiress  Catharine  was  married  in  the  year  1756  to  Ed- 
ward Elliot,  Esq.  (now  Lord  Elliot),  of  Port  El!iot  in  the 
county  of  Cornwall ;  and  their  three  sons  are  my  nearest 
male  relations  on  the  father's  side. 


9 


CHAP.  III. 

CHARACTER  OF  MR.  WILLIAM  LAW. 

A  life  of  devotion  and  celibacy  was  the  choice  of  my 
aunt,  Mrs.  Hester  Gibbon,  who,  at  the  age  of  eighty-five, 
stili  resides  at  a  hermitage  at  Cliffe,  in  Northamptonshire  ; 
having  long  survived  her  spiritual  guide  and  faithful 
companion,  Mr.  •William  Law,  who  at  an  advanced  age, 
about  the  year  17G1,  died  in  her  house.  In  our  family  he 
had  left  the  reputation  of  a  worthy  and  pious  man,  who 
believed  all  that  he  professed,  and  practised  all  that  he 
enjoined.  The  character  of  a  non-juror,  which  he  main- 
tained to  the  last,  is  a  sufficient  evidence  of  his  principles 
in  church  and  state ;  and  the  sacrifice  of  interest  to  con- 
science will  be  always  respectable.  His  theological 
writings,  which  our  domestic  connexion  has  tempted  me 
to  peruse,  preserve  an  imperfect  sort  of  life,  and  I  can 
pronounce  with  more  confidence  and  knowledge  on  the 
merits  of  the  author.  His  last  compositions  are  darkly 
tinctured  by  the  incomprehensible  visions  of  Jacob 
Behmen ;  and  his  discourse  on  the  absolute  unlawfulness 
of  stage-entertainments  is  sometimes  quoted  for  a  ridi- 
culous intemperance  of  sentiment  and  language. — "  The 
actors  and  spectators  must  all  be  damned :  the  playhouse 
is  the  porch  of  Hell,  the  place  of  the  Devil's  abode,  where 
he  holds  his  filthy  court  of  evil  spirits ;  a  play  is  the 


CHARACTER  OF  MR.  WILLIAM  LAW 


21 


Devil's  triumph,  a  sacrifice  performed  to  his  glory,  as 
much'  as  in  the  heathen  temples  of  Bachus  or  Venus,  &c. 
&c."  But  these  sallies  of  religious  frenzy  must  not  ex- 
tinguish the  praise  which  is  due  to  Mr.  William  Law  as 
a  wit  and  a  scholar.  His  argument  on  topics  of  less  absur- 
dity is  specious  and  acute,  his  manner  is  lively,  his  style 
forcible  and  clear ;  and,  had  not  his  vigorous  mind 
been  clouded  by  enthusiasm,  he  might  be  ranked  with  the 
most  agreeable  and  ingenious  writers  of  the  times.  While 
the  Bangorian  controversy  was  a  fashignable  theme,  he 
entered  the  lists  on  the  subject  of  Christ's  kingdom,  and 
the  authority  of  the  priesthood:  against  the  plain  account 
of  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  he  resumed  the 
combat  with  Bishop  Hoadley,  the  object  of  Whig  idol- 
atry, and  Tory  abhorrence ;  and  at  every  weapon  of 
attack  and  defence  the  non-juror,  on  the  ground  which  is 
common  to  both,  approves  himself  at  least  equal  to  the 
prelate.  On  the  appearance  of  the  Fable  of  the  Bees,  he 
drew  his  pen  against  the  licentiou3  doctrine  that  private 
vices  are  public  benefits ;  and  moraUty  as  well  as  religion 
must  join  in  his  applause.  Mr.  Law's  master-work,  the 
"  Serious  Call,"  is  still  read  as  a  popular  and  powerful 
book  of  devotion.  His  precepts  are  rigid,  but  they  are 
founded  on  the  gospel :  his  satire  is  sharp,  but  it  is  drawn 
from  the  knowledge  of  human  life ;  and  many  of  his  por- 
traits are  not  unworthy  of  the  pen  of  La  Bruyere.  If  he 
finds  a  spark  of  piety  in  his  reader's  mind,  he  will  soon 
kindle  it  to  a  flame ;  and  a  philosopher  must  allow  that 
he  exposes,  with  equal  severity  and  truth,  the  strange 
contradiction  between  the  faith  and  practice  of  the 
Christian  world.    Under  the  names  of  Flavia  and  Mi- 


22 


CHARACTER  OF  MR.  WILLIAM  LAW. 


randa  he  has  admirably  described  my  two  aunts — the 
heathen  and  the  Christian  sister. 

My  father,  Edward  Gibbon,  was  born  in  October, 
1707:  at  the  age  of  thirteen  he  could  scarcely  feel  that 
he  was  disinherited  by  act  of  parliament ;  and,  as  he 
advanced  towards  manhood,  new  prospects  of  fortune 
opened  to  his  view.  A  parent  is  most  attentive  to  sup- 
ply in  his  children  the  deficiencies  of  which  he  is  con- 
scious in  himself:  my  grandfather's  knowledge  was  de- 
rived from  a  strong  understanding,  and  the  experience  of 
the  ways  of  meiff  but  my  father  enjoyed  the  benefits  of 
a  liberal  education  as  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman.  At 
Westminster  School,  and  afterwards  at  Emanuel  College 
in  Cambridge,  he  passed  through  •  a  regular  course  of 
academical  discipline ;  and  the  care  of  his  learning  and 
morals  was  entrusted  to  his  private  tutor,  the  same  Mr. 
William  Law.  But  the  mind  of  a  saint  is  above  or  be- 
low the  present  world ;  and  while  the  pupil  proceeded  on 
his  travels,  the  tutor  remained  at  Putney,  the  much- 
honoured  friend  and  spiritual  director  of  the  whole 
family.  My  father  resided  some  time  at  Paris,  to  acquire 
the  fashionablo  exorcises ;  and  as  his  temper  was  warm 
and  social-,  he  indulged  in  those  pleasures,  for  which  the 
strictness  of  his  former  education  had  given  him  a  keener 
relish.  He  afterwards  visited  several  provinces  of 
France :  but  his  excursions  were  neither  long  nor  re- 
mote ;  and  the  slender  knowledge  which  he  had  gained 
of  the  French  language,  was  gradually  obliterated.  His 
passage  through  Besangon  is  marked  by  a  singular  conse- 
quence in  the  chain  of  human  events.  In  a  dangerous 
illness  Mr.  Gibbon  was  attended,  at  his  own  request  by 


CHARACTER  OF  MR.  WILLIAM  LAW. 


23 


^  one  of  his  kinsmen  of  the  name  of  Acton,  the  younger 
brother  of  a  younger  brother,  who  had  applied  himself  to 
the  study  of  physic.  During  the  slow  recovery  of  his 
patient,  the  physician  himself  was  attacked  by  the  ma- 
lady of  love  :  he  married  his  mistress,  renounced  his  coun- 
try and  religion,  settled  at  Besancon,  and  became  the 
father  of  three  sons  ;  the  eldest  of  whom,  General  Acton, 
is  conspicuous  in  Europe  as  the  principal  minister  of  the 
King  of  the  Two  Sicilies.  By  an  uncle  whom  another 
stroke  of  fortune  had  transplanted  to  Leghorn,  he  was 
educated  in  the  naval  service  of  the  Emperor ;  and  his 
valour  and  conduct  in  the  command  of  the  Tuscan  fri- 
gates protected  the  retreat  of  the  Spaniards  from  Algiers. 
On  my  father's  return  to  England  he  was  chosen,  in  the 
general  election  of  1734,  to  serve  in  parliament  for  the 
borough  of  Petersfield ;  a  burgage  tenure,  of  which  my 
grandfather  possessed  a  weighty  share,  till  he  alienated 
(I  know  not  why)  such  important  property.  In  the  op- 
position to  Sir  Robert  Walpole  and  the  Pelhams,  preju- 
dice and  society  connected  his  son  with  the  Tories, — 
shall  I  say  Jacobites  ?  or  as  they  were  pleased  to  style 
themselves,  the  country  gentlemen  ?  With  them  he  gave 
many  a  vote  ;  with  them  he  drank  many  a  bottle.  With- 
out acquiring  the  fame  of  an  orator  or  a  statesman,  he 
eagerly  joined  in  the  great  opposition  which,  after  a 
seven  years'  chase,  hunted  down  Sir  Robert  Walpole: 
and  in  the  pursuit  of  an  unpopular  minister,  he  gratified 
a  private  revenge  against  the  oppressor  of  his  family  in 
the  South  Sea  persecution. 


CHAP.  IV. 


MR.  GIBBON'S  BIRTH,  &c. 

I  was  born  at  Putney,  in  the  county  of  Surrey,  the 
27th  of  April,  O.  S.,  in  the  year  one  thousand  seven  hun- 
dred and  thirty-seven ;  the  first  child  of  the  marriage  of 
Edward  Gibbon,  Esq.  and  of  Judith  Porten.*  My  lot 
might  have  been  that  of  a  slave,  a  savage,  or  a  peasant : 
nor  can  I  reflect  without  pleasure  on  the  bounty  of  Na- 
ture, which  cast  my  birth  in  a  free  and  civilised  country, 
in  an  age  of  science  and  philosophy,  in  a  family  of 
honourable  rank,  and  decently  endowed  with  the  gifts  of 
fortune.  From  my  birth  I  have  enjoyed  the  right  of  pri- 
mogeniture ;  but  I  was  succeeded  by  five  brothers  and 
one  sister,  all  of  whom  were  snatched  away  in  their 
infancy.  My  five  brothers,  whose  names  may  be  found 
in  the  parish  register  of  Putney,  I  shall  not  pretend  to 
lament:  but  from  my  childhood  to  the  present  hour,  I 
have  deeply  and  sincerely  regretted  my  sister,  whose  life 

*  The  union  to  which  I  owe  my  birlh  was  a  marriage  of  inclination  and 
eBteem.  Mr.  James  Porten,  a  merchant  of  London,  reside  1  with  his  family 
at  Putney,  in  a  house  adjoining  to  the  bridge  and  churchyard,  where  I  have 
passed  many  happy  hours  of  my  childhood.  He  left  one  son  (the  late  Sir 
Stanier  Porten)  and  three  daughters  ;  Catharine,  who  preserved  her  maiden 
name,  and  of  whom  I  shall  hereafter  speak  ;  another  daughter  married  Mr. 
Darell  of  Richmond,  and  left  two  sons,  Edward  and  Robert;  the  youngest 
of  the  three  sisters  was  Judith,  my  mother. 


Mu  GIBBON'S  BIRTH,  &c. 


25 


was  somewhat  prolonged,  and  whom  I  remtmber  to  have 
seen  an  amiable  infant.  The  relation  of  a  brother  and  a 
sister,  especially  if  they  do  not  marry,  appears  to  me  of 
a  very  singular  nature.  It  is  a  familiar  and  tender 
friendship  with  a  female,  much  about  our  own  age ;  an 
affection  perhaps  softened  by  the  secret  influence  of  sex, 
but  pure  from  any  mixture  of  sensual  desire,  the  sole 
species  of  Platonic  love  that  can  be  indulged  with  truth 
and  without  danger. 

At  the  general  election  of  1741,  Mr.  Gibbon  and  Mr. 
Delme  stood  an  expensive  and  successful  contest  at 
Southampton,  against  Mr.  Dummer  and  Mr.  Henly,  after- 
wards Lord  Chancellor  and  Earl  of  Northington.  The 
Whig  candidates  had  a  majority  of  the  resident  voters; 
but  the  corporation  was  firm  in  the  Tory  interest :  a  sud- 
den creation  of  one  hundred  and  seventy  new  freemen 
turned  the  scale ;  and  a  supply  was  readily  obtained  of 
respectable  volunteers,  who  flocked  from  all  parts  of 
England  to  support  the  cause  of  *heir  political  friends. 
The  new  parliament  opened  with  the  victory  of  an  oppo- 
sition, which  was  fortified  by  strong  clamor  and  strange 
coalitions.  From  the  event  of  the  first  divisions,  Sir 
Robert  Walpole  perceived  that  he  could  no  longer  lead  a 
majority  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  prudently  re- 
signed (after  a  dominion  of  one  and  twenty  years)  the 
guidance  of  the  state  (1742).  But  the  fall  of  an  unpo- 
pular minister  was  not  succeeded,  according  to  general 
expectation,  by  a  millenium  of  happiness  and  virtue : 
some  courtiers  lost  their  places,  some  patriots  lost  their 
characters,  Lord  Orford's  offences  vanished  with  his 
power ;  and  after  a  short  vibration,  the  Pelham  govern- 


26 


MR.  GIBBON'S  BIRTH,  &c. 


ment  was  fixed  on  the  old  basis  of  Whig  aristocracy.  In 
the  year  1745,  the  throne  and  the  constitution  were  at- 
tacked by  a  rebelHon,  which  does  not  inflict  much  honour 
on  the  national  spirit :  since  the  EngUsh  friends  of  the 
Pretender  wanted  courage  to  join  his  standard,  and  his 
enemies  (the  bulk  of  the  people)  allowed  him  to  advance 
into  the  heart  of  the  kingdom.  Without  daring,  perhaps 
without  desiring,  to  aid  the  rebels,  my  father  invariably 
adhered  to  the  Tory  opposition.  In  the  most  critical  sea- 
son he  accepted,  for  the  service  of  the  party,  the  office  of 
alderman  in  the  city  of  London :  but  the  duties  were  so 
repugnant  to  his  inclination  and  habits,  that  he  resigned 
his  gown  at  the  end  of  a  few  months.  The  second  par- 
liament in  which  he  sat  was  prematurely  dissolved 
(1747)  :  and  as  he  was  unable  or  unwilling  to  maintain  a 
second  contest  for  Southampton,  the  life  of  the  senator 
expired  in  that  dissolution. 

The  death  of  a  new-born  child  before  that  of  its  parents 
may  seem  an  unnatural,  but  it  is  strictly  a  probable, 
event :  since  of  any  given  number  the  greater  part  are 
extinguished  before  their  ninth  year,  before  they  possess 
the  faculties  of  the  mind  or  body.  Without  accusing  the 
profuse  waste  or  imperfect  workmanship  of  Nature,  I 
shall  only  observe,  that  this  unfavourable  chance  was 
multiplied  against  my  infant  existence.  So  feeble  was 
my  constitution,  so  precarious  my  life,  that,  in  the  baptism 
of  each  of  my  brothers,  my  father's  prudence  successively 
repeated  my  christian  name  of  Edward,  that,  in  case  of 
the  departure  of  the  eldest  son,  this  patronymic  appella- 
tion might  be  still  perpetuated  in  the  family. 

— — — Uuo  avulso  Hon  deficit  aller. 


MB.  GIBBON'S  BIRTH,  &c. 


27 


To  preserve  and  to  rear  so  frail  a  being,  the  most  ten- 
der assiduity  was  scarcely  sufficient ;  and  my  mother's 
attention  was  somewhat  diverted  by  her  frequent  preg- 
nancies, by  an  exclusive  passion  for  her  husband,  and  by 
the  dissipation  of  the  world,  in  which  his  taste  and 
authority  obliged  her  to  mingle.  But  the  maternal  office 
was  supplied  by  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Catharine  Porten;  at 
whose  name  I  feel  a  tear  of  gratitude  trickling  down  my 
cheek.  A  life  of  celibacy  transferred  her  vacant  affection 
to  her  sister's  first  child :  my  weakness  excited  her  pity ; 
her  attachment  was  fortified  by  labour  and  success :  and 
if  there  be  any,  as  I  trust  there  are  some,  who  rejoice  that 
I  live,  to  that  dear  and  excellent  woman  they  must  hold 
themselves  indebted.  Many  anxious  and  solitary  days 
did  she  consume  in  the  patient  trial  of  every  mode  of 
relief  and  amusement.  Many  wakeful  nights  did  she  sit 
by  my  bed-side  in  trembling  expectation  that  each  hour 
would  be  my  last.  Of  the  various  and  frequent  disorders 
of  my  childhood  my  own  recollection  is  dark ;  nor  do  I 
wish  to  expatiate  on  so  disgusting  a  topic.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  while  every  practitioner,  from  Sloane  and  Ward 
to  the  Chevalier  Taylor,  was  successively  summoned  to 
torture  or  relieve  me,  the  care  of  my  mind  was  too  fre- 
quently neglected  for  that  of  my  health:  comgassion 
always  suggested  an  excuse  for  the  indulgence  of  the 
master,  or  the  idleness  of  the  pupil ;  and  the  chain  of  my 
education  was  broken,  as  often  as  I  was  recalled  from  the 
school  of  learning  to  the  bed  of  sickness. 

As  soon  as  the  use  of  speech  had  prepared  my  infant 
reason  for  the  admission  of  knowledge,  I  was  taught  the 
arts  of  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic.    So  remote  is 


28 


MR.  GIBBON'S  BIRTH,  &c. 


the  date,  so  vague  is  the  memory  of  their  origin  in  my- 
self, that,  were  not  the  error  corrected  by  analogy,  I 
should  be  tempted  to  conceive  them  as  innate.  In  my 
childhood  I  was  praised  for  the  readiness  with  which  I 
could  multiply  and  divide,  by  memory  alone,  two  sums 
of  several  figures :  su.ch  praise  encouraged  my  growing 
talent ;  and  had  I  persevered  in  this  line  of  application,  I 
might  have  acquired  some  fame  in  mathematical  studies. 

After  this  previous  institution  at  home,  or  at  a  day- 
school  at  Putney,  I  was  delivered  at  the  age  of  seven  into 
the  hands  of  Mr.  John  Kirkby,  who  exercised  about 
eighteen  months  the  office  of  my  domestic  tutor.  His 
own  words,  which  I  shall  here  transcribe,  inspire  in  his 
favour  a  sentiment  of  pity  and  esteem. — "  During  my 
abode  in  my  native  county  of  Cumberland,  in  quality  of 
an  indigent  curate,  I  used  now  and  then  in  a  summer, 
when  the  pleasantness  of  the  season  invited,  to  take  a  so- 
litary walk  to  the  sea-shore,  which  lies  about  two  miles 
from  the  town  where  I  lived.  Here  I  would  amuse  my- 
selff  one  while  m  viewing  at  large  the  agreeable  prospect 
which  surrounded  me,  and  another  while  (confining  my 
sight  to  nearer  objects)  in  admiring  the  vast  variety  of 
beautiful  shells,  thrown  upon  the  beach ;  some  of  the 
choicest  of  which  I  always  picked  up,  to  divert  my  little 
ones  upon  my  return.  One  time  among  the  rest,  taking 
such  a  journey  in  my  head,  I  sat  down  upon  the  declivity 
of  the  beach  with  my  face  to  the  sea,  which  was  now 
come  up  within  a  few  yards  of  my  feet ;  when  imme- 
diately the  sad  thought  of  the  wretched  condition  of  my 
family,  and  the  unsucccssfulness  of  all  endeavours  to 
amend  it,  came  crowding  into  my  mind,  which  drove  me 


MR.  GIBBON'S  BIRTH,  &c. 


39 


into  a  deep  melancholy,  and  ever  and  anon  forced  tears 
from  my  eyes."  Distress  at  last  forced  him  to  leave  the 
country.  His  learning  and  virtue  introduced  him  to  my 
father ;  and  at  Putney  he  might  have  found  at  least  a 
temporary  shelter,  had  not  an  act  of  indiscretion  again 
driven  him  into  the  w^orld.  One  day  reading  prayers  in 
the  parish  church,  he  most  unluckily  forgot  the  name  of 
King  George:  his  patron.a  loyal  subject,  dismissed  him  with 
some  reluctance,  and  a  decent  reward  :  and  how  the  poor 
man  ended  his  days  I  have  never  been  able  to  learn.  Mr. 
John  Kirkby  is  the  author  of  two  small  volumes  ;  the  Life 
of  Automathes  (London,  1745),  and  an  English  and  Latin 
Grammar  (London,  1746) ;  which,  as  a  testimony  of 
gratitude,  he  dedicated  (November  5th,  1745)  to  my 
father.  The  books  are  before  me :  from  them  the  pupil 
may  judge  the  preceptor  ;  and,  upon  the  whole,  his  judg- 
ment will  not  be  unfavourable.  The  grammar  is  exe- 
cuted with  accuracy  and  skill,  and  I  know  not  whether 
any  better  existed  at  the  time  in  our  language :  but  the 
life  of  Automathes  aspires  to  the  honours  of  a  philoso- 
phical fiction.  It  is  the  story  of  a  youth,  the  son  of  a 
shipwrecked  exile,  who  lives  alone  on  a  desert  island  from 
infancy  to  the  age  of  manhood.  A  hind  is  his  nurse  ;  he 
inherits  a  cottage,  with  many  useful  and  curious  instru- 
ments ;  some  ideas  remain  of  the  education  of  his  two 
first  years ;  some  arts  are  borrowed  from  the  beavers  of 
a  neighboring  lake ;  some  truths  are  revealed  in  superna- 
tural visions.  With  these  helps,  and  his  own  industry, 
Automathes  becomes  a  self-taught  though  speechless 
philosopher,  who  had  investigated  with  success  his  own 
mind,  the  natural  world,  the  abstract  sciences,  and  the 


30 


MR.  GIBBON'S  BIRTH,  &c. 


great  principles  of  morality  and  religion.  The  author  is 
not  entitled  to  the  merit  of  invention,  since  he  has  blended 
the  English  story  of  Robinson  Crusoe  with  the  Arabian 
romance  of  Hai  Ebn  Yokhdam,  which  he  might  have  read 
in  the  Latin  version  of  Pocock.  In  the  Automathes  I 
cannot  praise  either  the  depth  of  thought  or  elegance  of 
style ;  but  the  book  is  not  devoid  of  entertainment  or 
instruction ;  and  among  several  interesting  passages,  I 
would  select  the  discovery  of  fire,  which  produces  by  ac- 
cidental mischief  the  discovery  of  conscience.  A  man 
who  had  thought  so  much  on  the  subjects  of  language  and 
education  was  surely  no  ordinary  preceptor ;  my  childish 
years,  and  his  hasty  departure,  prevented  me  from  enjoy- 
ing the  full  benefit  of  his  lessons  ;  but  they  enlarged  my 
knowledge  of  arithmetic,  and  left  me  a  clear  impression 
of  the  English  and  Latin  rudiments. 


CHAP.  V. 


THE  AUTHOR  IS  SENT  TO  DR.  WOODDESON'S  SCHOOL. 

In  my  ninth  year  (January,  1746),  in  a  lucid  interval 
of  comparative  health,  my  father  adopted  the  convenient 
and  customery  mode  of  English  education ;  and  I  was 
sent  to  Kingston-upon-Thames,  to  a  school  of  about 
seventy  boys,  which  was  kept  by  Dr.  Wooddeson  and  his 
assistants.  Every  time  I  have  since  passed  over  Putney 
Common,  I  have  always  noticed  the  spot  where  my  mo- 
ther, as  we  drove  along  in  the  coach,  admonished  me 
that  I  was  now  going  into  the  world,  and  must  learn  to 
think  and  act  for  myself.  The  expression  may  appear 
ludicrous  :  yet  there  is  not,  in  the  course  of  life,  a  more 
remarkable  change  than  the  removal  of  a  child  from  the 
luxury  and  freedom  of  a  wealthy  house,  to  the  frugal  diet 
and  strict  subordination  of  a  school ;  from  the  tenderness 
of  parents,  and  the  obsequiousness  of  servants,  to  the 
rude  familiarity  of  his  equals,  the  insolent  tyranny  of  his 
seniors,  and  the  rod,  perhaps,  of  a  cruel  and  capricious 
pedagogue.  Such  hardships  may  steel  the  mind  and 
body  against  the  injuries  of  fortune ;  but  my  timid  reserve 
was  astonished  by  the  crowd  and  tumult  of  the  school ; 
the  want  of  strength  and  activity  disqualified  me  for  the 
sports  of  the  play-field  ;  nor  have  I  forgotten  how  often 
in  the  year  forty-six,  1  was  reviled  and  buffeted  for  the 


32 


THE  AUTEOR  IS  SENT  TO 


sins  of  my  Tory  ancestors.  By  the  common  methods  of 
discipline,  at  the  expense  of  many  tears  and  some  blood, 
I  purchased  the  knowledge  of  the  Latin  syntax ;  and  not 
long  since,  I  was  possessed  of  the  dirty  volumes  of  Phae- 
drus  and  Cornelius  Nepos,  which  I  painfully  construed 
and  darkly  understood.  The  choice  of  these  authors  is 
not  injudicious.  The  Zi»es  of  Cornelius  Nepos,  the  friend 
C"  of  Attvfcus  and  Cicero,  are  composed  in  the  style  of  the 
purest  age :  his  simplicity  is  elegant,  his  brevity  copious : 
he  exhibits  a  series  of  men  and  manners  ;  and  with  such 
illustrations,  as  every  pedant  is  not  indeed  qualified  to 
give,  this  classic  biographer  may  initiate  a  young  student 
in  the  history  of  Greece  and  Rome.  The  use  of  fables  or 
apologues  has  been  approved  in  every  age  from  ancient 
India  to  modern  Europe.  They  convey  in  familiar  images 
the  truths  of  morality  and  prudence ;  and  the  most 
childish  understanding  (I  advert  to  the  scruples  of  Rous- 
seau) will  not  suppose  either  that  beasts  do  speak,  or  that 
men  may  lie.  A  fable  represents  the  genuine  characters 
of  animals ;  and  a  skilful  master  might  extract  from  Pliny 
and  BufTon  some  pleasing  lessons  of  natural  history,  a 
science  well  adapted  to  the  taste  and  capacity  of  children. 
The  Latinity  of  Phaedrus  is  not  exempt  from  an  alloy  of 
the  silver  age;  but  his  manner  is  concise,  terse,  and  sen- 
tentious :  the  Thracian  slave  discreetly  breathes  the 
spirit  of  a  freeman ;  and  when  the  text  is  found,  the  style 
is  perspicuous.  But  his  fables,  after  along  oblivion,  were 
first  published  by  Peter  Pithou,  from  a  corrupt  manu- 
script. The  laboura  of  fifty  editors  confess  the  defects  of 
the  copy  as  well  as  th»  value  of  the  original ;  and  the 
school-boy  may  have  been  whipped  for  misapprehending 


DR.  WOODDESON'S  SCHOOL. 


33 


a  passage,  which  Bentley  could  not  restore,  and  which 
Burman  could  not  explain. 

My  studies  were  too  frequently  interrupted  by  sickness; 
and  after  a  real  or  nominal  residence  at  Kingston  school 
for  near  two  years,  I  was  finally  recalled  (December, 
1747)  by  my  mother's  death,  which  was  occasioned,  in 
her  thirty-eighth  year,  by  the  consequences  of  her  last  ' 
labour.  I  was  too  young  to  feel  the  importance  of  my 
loss ;  and  the  image  of  her  person  and  conversation  is 
faintly  imprinted  in  my  memory.  The  affectionate  heart 
of  my  aunt,  Catharine  Porten,  bewailed  a  sister  and  a 
friend ;  but  my  poor  father  was  inconsolable,  and  the 
transport  of  grief  seemed  to  threaten  his  life  or  his  reason. 
I  can  never  forget  the  scene  of  our  first  interview,  some 
weeks  after  the  fatal  event ;  the  awful  silence,  the  room 
hung  with  black,  the  mid-day  tapers,  his  sighs  and  tears ; 
his  praises  of  my  mother,  a  saint  in  heaven ;  his  solemn 
adjuration  that  I  would  cherish  her  memory  and  imitate 
her  virtues ;  and  the  fervour  with  which  he  kissed  and 
blessed  me  as  the  sole  surviving  pledge  of  their  loves. 
The  storm  of  passion  insensibly  subsided  into  calmer 
melancholy.  At  a  convivial  meeting  of  his  friends,  Mr. 
Gibbon  might  affect  or  enjoy  a  gleam  of  cheerfulness ; 
but  his  plan  of  happiness  was  for  ever  destroyed :  and 
after  the  loss  of  his  companion  he  was  left  alone  in  a 
world,  of  which  the  business  and  pleasures  were  to  him 
irksome  or  insipid.  After  some  unsuccessful  trials  he 
renounced  the  tumult  of  London  and  the  hospitality  of 
Putney,  and  buried  himself  in  the  rural  or  rather  rustic 
solitude  of  Buriton ;  from  which,  during  several  years,  he 
seldom  emerged. 


34 


THE  AUTHOR  IS  SENT  TO 


As  far  back  as  I  can  remember,  the  house,  near  Putney- 
bridge  and  churchyard,  of  my  maternal  grandfather,  ap- 
pears in  the  Hght  of  my  proper  and  native  home.    It  was 
there  that  I  was  allowed  to  spend  the  greatest  part  of 
my  time,  in  sickness  or  in  health,  during  my  school  vaca- 
tions and  my  parents'  residence  in  London,  and  finally 
after  my  mother's  death.    Three  months  after  that  event, 
in  the  spring  of  1748,  the  commercial  ruin  of  her  father, 
Mr.  James  Porten,  was  accomplished  and  declared.  He 
suddenly  absconded :  but  as  his  effects  were  not  sold,  nor 
the  house  evacuated,  till   the  Christmas  following,  I 
enjoyed  during  the  whole  year  the  society  of  my  aunt, 
without  much  consciousness  of  her  impending  fate.  I 
feel  a  melancholy  pleasure  in  repeating  my  obligations  to 
that  excellent  woman,  Mrs.  Catharine  Porten,  the  true 
mother  of  my  mind  as  well  as  of  my  health.    Her  natu- 
ral good  sense  was  improved  by  the  perusal  of  the  best 
books  in  the  English  language ,  and  if  her  reason  was 
sometimes  clouded  by  prejudice,  her  sentiments  were 
never  disguised  by  hypocrisy  or  affectation.    Her  in- 
dulgent tenderness,  the  frankness  of  her  temper,  and  my 
innate  rising  curiosity,  soon  removed  all  distance  between 
us:  Hke  friends  of  an  equal  age,  we  freely  conversed  on 
every  topic,  familiar  or  abstruse  ;  and  it  was  her  delight 
and  reward  to  observe  the  first  shoots  of  my  young  ideas. 
Pain  and  languor  were  often  soothed  by  the  voice  of 
instruction  and  amusement ;  and  to  her  kind  lessons  I 
ascribe  my  early  and  invincible  love  of  reading,  which  I 
would  not  exchange  for  the  treasures  of  India.    I  should 
perhaps  be  astonished,  were  it  possible  to  ascertain  the 
date,  at  which  a  favourite  tale  was  engraved,  by  frequent 


DR.  WOODDESON'S  SCHOOL. 


35 


repetition,  in  my  memory :  the  Cavern  of  the  Winds ; 
the  Palace  of  Felicity ;  and  the  fatal  moment,  at  the  end 
of  three  months  or  centuries,  when  Prince  Adolphus  is 
overtaken  by  Time,  who  had  worn  out  so  many  pair  of 
wings  in  the  pursuit.  Before  I  left  Kingston  school  I 
was  well  acquainted  with  Pope's  Homer  and  the  Arabian 
Nights  Entertainments,  two  books  which  will  always 
please  by  the  moving  picture  of  human  manners  and 
specious  miracles :  nor  was  I  then  capable  of  discerning 
that  Pope's  translation  is  a  portrait  endowed  with  every 
merit,  excepting  that  of  Hkeness  to  the  original.  The 
verses  of  Pope  accustomed  my  ear  to  the  sound  of  poetic 
harmony ;  in  the  death  of  Hector,  and  the  shipwreck  of 
Ulysses,  I  tasted  the  new  emotions  of  terror  and  pity ; 
and  seriously  disputed  with  my  aunt  on  the  vices  and 
virtues  of  the  heroes  of  the  Trojan  war.  From  Pope's 
Homer  to  Dryden's  Virgil  was  an  easy  transition  ;  but  I 
know  not  how,  from  some  fault  in  the  author,  the  trans- 
lator, or  the  reader,  the  pious  iEneas  did  not  so  forcibly 
seize  on  my  imagination ;  and  I  derived  more  pleasure 
from  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  especially  in  the  fall  of 
Phaeton  and  the  speeches  of  Ajax  and  Ulysses.  My 
grandfather's  flight  uilTocked  the  door  of  a  tolerable 
library ;  and  I  turned  over  many  English  pages  of  poetry 
and  Romance,  of  history  and  travels.  Where  a  title 
attracted  my  eye,  without  fear  or  awe  I  snatched  the 
volume  from  the  shelf ;  and  Mrs.  Porten,  who  indulged 
herself  in  moral  and  religious  speculations,  was  more 
prone  to  encourage  than  to  check  a  curiosity  above  the 
strength  of  a  boy.  This  year  (1748),  the  twelfth  of  my 
age,  I  shall  note  as  the  most  propitious  to  the  growth  of 
my  intellectual  stature. 


CHAP.  VI. 

MR.  GIBBON  IS  ENTERED  AT  WESTMINSTER  SCHOOL. 

The  relics  of  my  grandfather's  fortune  afforded  a  bare 
annuity  for  his  own  maintenance ;  and  his  daughter,  my 
worthy  aunt,  who  had  already  passed  her  fortieth  year, 
was  left  destitute.  Her  noble  spirit  scorned  a  life  of 
obligation  and  dependence ;  and  after  revolving  several 
schemes,  she  preferred  the  humble  industry  of  keeping  a 
boarding-house  for  Westminster  School,*  where  she 
laboriously  earned  a  competence  for  her  old  age.  This 
singular  opportunity  of  blending  the  advantages  of  pri- 
vate and  public  education  decided  my  father.  After  the 
Christmas  holidays  in  January,  1749, 1  accompanied  Mrs. 
Porten  to  her  new  house  in  College-street;  and  was  im- 
mediately entered  in  the  school,  of  which  Dr.  John  Nicoll 
was  at  that  time  head  master.  At  first  I  was  alone  ;  but 
my  aunt's  resolution  was  praised ;  her  character  was  es- 
teemed ;  her  friends  were  numAous  and  active :  in  the 
course  of  some  years  she  became  the  mother  of  forty  or 
fifty  boys,  for  the  most  part  of  family  and  fortune  ;  and  as 
her  primitive  habitation  was  too  narrow,  she  built  and 
occupied  a  spacious  mansion  in  Dean's  Yard.    I  shall 

*  It  is  said  in  the  family,  that  she  was  principally  induced  to  this  under- 
taking by  her  affection  for  her  nephew,  whose  weak  constitutioa  required 
her  constant  and  unremitted  attention. — S. 


MR.  GIBBON  IS  ENTERED  AT  WESTMINSTER  SCHOOL.  37 


always  be  ready  to  join  in  the  common  opinion,  that  our 
pubUc  schools,  which  have  produced  so  many  eminent 
characters,  are  the  best  adapted  to  the  genius  and  constitu- 
tion of  the  English  people.  A  boy  of  spirit  may  acquire  a 
previous  and  practical  experience  of  the  world  ;  and  his 
playfellows  may  be  the  future  friends  of  his  heart  or  his  in- 
terest. In  a  free  intercourse  with  his  equals,  the  habits  of 
truth,  fortitude,  and  prudence  will  insensibly  be  matured. 
Birth  and  riches  are  measured  by  the  standard  of  personal 
merit ;  and  the  mimic  scene  of  a  rebellion  has  displayed, 
in  their  true  colours,  the  ministers  and  patriots  of  the 
rising  generation.  Our  seminaries  of  learning  do  not  ex- 
actly correspond  with  the  precept  of  a  Spartan  king, 
"  that  the  child  should  be  instructed  in  the  arts,  which 
will  be  useful  to  the  man ;"  since  a  finished  scholar  may 
emerge  from  the  head  of  Westminster  or  Eton,  in  total 
ignorance  of  the  business  and  conversation  of  English  gen- 
tlemen in  the  latter  end  of  the  eighteenth  century.  But 
these  schools  may  assume  the  m-^rit  of  teaching  all  that 
they  pretend  to  teach,  the  Latin  and  Greek  languages : 
they  deposit  in  the  hands  of  a  disciple  the  keys  of  two 
valuable  chests ;  nor  can  he  complain,  if  they  are  after- 
wards lost  or  neglected  by  his  own  fault.  The  neces- 
sity of  leading  in  equal  ranks  so  many  unequal  powers  of 
capacity  and  application,  will  prolong  to  eight  or  ten 
years  the  juvenile  studies,  which  might  be  despatched  in 
half  that  time  by  the  skilful  master  of  a  single  pupil.  Yet 
even  the  repetition  of  exercise  and  discipline  contributes 
to  fix  in  a  vacant  mind  the  verbal  science  of  grammar 
and  prosody :  and  the  private  or  voluntary  student,  who 
possesses  the  sense  and  spirit  of  the  classics,  may  oflfend. 


38    MR.  GIBBON  IS  ENTERED  AT  WESTMINSTER  SCHOOL. 


by  a  false  quantity,  the  scrupulous  ear  of  a  well-flogged 
critic.  For  myself,  I  must  be  content  with  a  very  small 
share  of  the  civil  and  literary  fruits  of  a  public  school.  In 
the  space  of  two  years  (1749,  1750),  interrupted  by  dan- 
ger and  debility,  I  painfully  climbed  into  the  third 
form  ;  and  my  riper  age  was  left  to  acquire  the  beauties 
of  the  Latin  and  the  rudiments  of  the  Greek  tongue. 
Instead  of  audaciously  mingling  in  the  sports,  the  quar- 
rels, and  the  connexions  of  our  little  world,  I  was  still 
cherished  at  home  under  the  maternal  wing  of  my  aunt ; 
and  my  removal  from  Westminster  long  preceded  the 
approach  of  manhood. 

The  violence  and  variety  of  my  complaints,  which  had 
excused  my  frequent  absence  from  Westminster  School, 
at  length  engaged  Mrs.  Porten,  with  the  advice  of  phy- 
sicians, to  conduct  me  to  Bath :  at  the  end  of  INIichaelmas 
vacation  (1750)  she  quitted  me  with  reluntance,  and  I 
remained  several  months  under  the  care  of  a  trusty  maid- 
servant. A  strange  nervous  affection,  which  alternately 
contracted  my  legs,  and  produced,  without  any  visible 
symptoms,  the  most  excruciating  pain,  was  ineffectually 
opposed  by  the  various  methods  of  bathing  and  pumping. 
From  Bath  I  was  transported  to  Winchester,  to  the  house 
of  a  physician  ;  and  after  the  failure  of  his  medical  skill, 
we  had  again  recourse  to  the  virtues  of  the  Bath  waters.  - 
During  the  intervals  of  these  fits,  I  moved  with  my  father 
to  Buriton  and  Putney ;  and  a  short  unsuccessful  trial  was 
attempted  to  renew  my  attendance  at  Westminster 
School.  But  my  infirmities  could  not  be  reconciled  with 
the  hours  and  discipline  of  a  public  seminary :  and  instead 
of  a  domestic  tutor,  who  might  have  watched  the  favour- 


MR.  GIBBON  IS  ENTERED  AT  WESTMINSTER  SCHOOL.  39 


able  moments,  and  gently  advanced  the  progress  of  my 
learning,  my  father  was  too  easily  content  with  such 
occasional  teachers  as  the  different  places  of  my  resi- 
dence could  supply.  I  was  never  forced,  and  seldom 
was  I  persuaded,  to  admit  these  lessons  :  yet  I  read  with 
a  clergyman  at  Bath  some  odes  of  Horace,  and  several 
episodes  of  Virgil,  which  gave  me  an  imperfect  and  tran- 
sient enjoyment  of  the  Latin  poets.  It  might  now  be  ap- 
prehended that  I  should  continue  for  life  an  illiterate 
cripple :  but,  as  I  approached  my  sixteenth  year,  nature 
displayed  in  my  favour  her  mysterious  energies ;  my 
constitution  was  fortified  and  fixed ;  and  my  disorders, 
instead  of  growing  with  my  growth  ^and  strengthening 
with  my  strength,  most  wonderfully  vanished.  I  have 
never  possessed  or  abused  the  insolence  of  health ;  but 
since  that  time  few  persons  have  been  more  exempt  from 
real  or  imaginary  ills  ;  and,  till  I  am  admonished  by  the 
gout,  the  reader  will  no  more  be  troubled  with  the  history 
of  my  bodily  complaints.  My  unexpected  recovery 
again  encouraged  the  hope  of  my  education  ;  and  I  was 
placed  at  Esher,  in  Surrey,  in  the  house  of  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Philip  Francis,  in  a  pleasant  spot,  which  promised  to 
unite  the  various  benefits  of  air,  exercise,  and  study 
(January,  1752).  The  translator  of  Horace  might  have 
taught  me  to  relish  the  Latin  poets,  had  not  my  friends 
discovered  in  a  few  weeks,  that  he  preferred  the  plea- 
sures of  London  to  the  instruction  of  his  pupils. 


CHAP.  VII. 


THE   AUTHOR   ENTERS   MAGDALEN  COLLEGE, 
OXFORD. 

My  father's  perplexity  at  this  time,  rather  than  his  pru- 
dence, was  urged  to  embrace  a  singular  and  desperate 
measure.  Without  preparation  or  delay  he  carried  me 
to  Oxford ;  and  I  was  matriculated  in  the  univei-sity  as  a 
gentleman  commoner  of  Magdalen  College,  before  I  had 
accomplished  the  fifteenth  year  of  my  age  (April  3, 1752). 

The  curiosity,  which  had  been  implanted  in  my  infant 
mind,  was  still  alive  and  active  ;  but  my  reason  was  not 
sufficiently  informed  to  understand  the  value,  or  to  lament 
the  loss,  of  three  precious  years  from  my  entrance  at 
Westminster  to  my  admission  at  Oxford.  Instead  of 
repining  at  my  long  and  frequent  confinement  to  the 
chamber  or  the  couch,  I  secretly  rejoiced  in  those  infir- 
mities, which  delivered  me  from  the  exercises  of  the 
school,  and  the  society  of  my  equals.  As  often  as  I  was 
tolerably  exempt  from  danger  and  pain,  reading,  free 
desultory  reading,  was  the  employment  and  comfort  of 
my  solitary  hours.  At  Westminster,  my  aunt  sought 
only  to  amuse  and  indulge  me ;  in  my  stations  at  Bath 
and  Winchester,  at  Buriton  and  Putney,  a  false  compas- 
sion respected  my  sufferings  ;  and  I  was  allowed,  without 
control  or  advice,  to  gratify  the  wanderings  of  an  unripe 


THE  AUTHOR  ENTERS  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD.  41 


taste.  My  indiscriminate  appetite  subsided  by  degrees  in 
the  historic  line :  and  since  pliilosophy  has  exploded  all 
innate  ideas  and  natural  propensities,  I  must  ascribe  this 
choice  to  the  assiduous  perusal  of  the  Universal  History, 
as  the  octavo  volumes  successively  appeared.  This  une- 
qual workj  and  a  treatise  of  Hearne,  the  Ductor  histori- 
cus,  referred  and  introduced  me  to  the  Greek  and  Roman 
historians,  to  as  many  at  least  as  were  accessible  to  an 
English  reader.  All  that  I  could  find  were  greedily 
devoured,  from  Littl^bury's  lame  Herodotus,  and  Spel- 
man's  valuable  Xenophon,  to  the  pompous  folios  of  Gor- 
don's Tacitus,  and  a  ragged  Procopius  of  the  beginning 
of  the  last  century.  The  cheap  acquisition  of  so  much 
knowledge  confirmed  my  dislike  to  the  study  of  languages; 
and  I  argued  with  Mrs.  Porten,  that,  were  I  master  of 
Greek  and  Latin,  I  must  interpret  to  myself  in  English 
the  thoughts  of  the  original,  and  that  such  extemporary 
versions  must  be  inferior  to  the  elaborate  translations  of 
professed  scholars ;  a  silly  sophism,  which  could  not 
easily  be  confuted  by  a  person  ignorant  of  any  other  lan- 
guage than  her  own.  From  the  ancient  I  leaped  to  the 
modern  world:  many  crude  lumps  af  Speed,  Rapin, 
Mezeray,  Davila,  Machiavel,  Father  Paul,  Bower,  &;c.  I 
devoured  like  so  many  novels ;  and  I  swallowed  with  the 
same  voracious  appetite  the  descriptions  of  India  and 
China,  of  Mexico  and  Peru. 

My  first  introduction  to  the  historic  scenes,  which  have 
since  engaged  so  many  years  of  my  life,  must  be  ascribed  to 
an  accident.  In  the  summer  of  1751,  I  accompanied  my 
father  on  a  visit  to  Mr.  Hoare  ,  in  Wiltshire;  but  I  was 
less  delighted  with  the  beauties  of  Stourhead,  than  with 


42   THE  AUTHOR  ENTERS  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD. 


discovering  in  the  library  a  common  book,  the  continua- 
tion of  Echard's  Roman  History,  which  is  indeed  exe- 
cuted with  more  skill  and  taste  than  the  previous  work. 
To  me  the  reigns  of  the  successors  of  Constantine  were 
absolutely  new ;  and  I  was  immersed  in  the  passage  of 
the  Goths  over  the  Danube,  when  the  summons  of  the 
dinner-bell  reluctantly  dragged  me  from  my  intellectual 
feast.  This  transient  glance  served  rather  to  irritate  than 
to  appease  my  curiosity ;  and  as  soon  as  I  returned  to 
Bath  I  procured  the  second  and  thift  volumes  of  Howell's 
History  of  the  World,  which  exhibit  the  Byzantine  period 
on  a  larger  scale.  Mahomet  and  his  Saracens  soon 
fixed  my  attention  ;  and  some  instinct  of  criticism  directed 
me  to  the  genuine  sources.  Simon  Ockley,  an  original  in 
every  sense,  first  opened  my  eyes;  and  I  was  led  from 
one  book  to  another,  till  I  had  ranged  round  the  circle  of 
oriental  historj^  Before  I  was  sixteen,  1  had  exhausted 
all  that  could  be  learned  in  English  of  the  Arabs  and 
Persians,  the  Tartars  and  Turks ;  and  the  same  ardour 
urged  me  to  guess  at  the  French  of  D'Herbelot,  and  to 
construe  the  barbarous  Latin  of  Pocock's  Abulfaragius. 
Such  vague  and  multifarious  reading  could  not  teach  me 
to  think,  to  write,  or  to  act ;  and  the  only  principle  that 
darted  a  ray  of  light  into  the  indigested  chaos,  was  an 
early  and  rational  application  to  the  order  of  time  and 
place.  The  maps  of  Cellarius  and  Wells  imprinted  in 
my  mind  ihe  picture  of  ancient  geography:  from  Stran- 
chius  I  imbibed  the  elements  of  chronology :  the  Tables 
of  Helvicus  and  Anderson,  the  Annals  of  Usher  and 
Prideaux,  distinguished  the  connexion  of  events,  and  en- 
graved the  multitude  of  names  and  dates  in  a  clear  and 


THE  AUTHOR  ENTERS  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD.  43 


indelible  series.  But  in  the  discussion  of  the  first  ages  I 
overleaped  the  bounds  of  modesty  and  use.  In  my 
childish  balance  I  presumed  to  weigh  the  systems  of 
Scaliger  and  Petavius,  of  Marsham  and  Newton,  which  I 
could  seldom  study  in  the  originals :  and  my  sleep  has 
been  disturbed  by  the  difficulty  of  reconciling  the  Sep- 
tuagint  with  the  Hebrew  computation.  I  arrived  at 
Oxford  with  a  stock  of  erudition  that  might  have  puzzled 
a  doctor,  and  a  degree  of  ignorance,  of  which  a  school-  • 
boy  might  have  been  jishamed. 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  first  period  of  my  life,  I  am 
tempted  to  enter  a  protest  against  the  trite  and  lavish 
praise  of  the  happiness  of  our  boyish  years,  which  is 
echoed  with  so  much  affectation  in  the  world.  That 
happiness  I  have  never  known,  that  time  I  have  never 
regretted ;  and  were  my  poor  aunt  still  alive,  she  would 
bear  testimony  to  the  early  and  constant  uniformity  of 
my  sentiments.  It  will  indeed  be  replied,  that  /  am  not 
a  competent  judge ;  that  pleasure  is  incompatible  with 
pain ;  that  joy  is  excluded  from  sickness ;  and  that  the 
felicity  of  a  school-boy  consists  in  the  perpetual  motion 
of  thoughtless  and  playful  agility,  in  which  I  was  never 
qualified  to  excel.  My  name,  it  is  most  true,  could  never 
be  enrolled  among  the  sprightly  race,  the  idle  progeny  of 
Eton  or  Westminster, 

"  Who  foremost  may  delight  to  cleave, 
With  pliant  arm  the  glassy  wave, 
Orm-gethe  flying  ball." 

The  poet  may  gayly  describe  the  short  hours  of  recre- 
ation ;  but  he  forgets  the  daily  tedious  labours  of  the 


44  THE  AUTHOR  ENTERS  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD. 


school,  which  is  approached  each  morning  with  anxious 
and  reluctant  steps. 

A  traveller  who  visits  Oxford  or  Cambridge,  is  sur- 
prised and  edified  by  the  apparent  order  and  tranquillity 
that  prevail  in  the  seats  of  the  English  muses.    In  the 
most  celebrated  universities  of  Holland,  Germany,  and 
Italy,  the  students,  who  swarm  from  different  countries, 
are  loosely  dispersed  in  private  lodgings  at  the  houses  of 
the  burghers:  they  dress  according  to  their  fancy  and 
fortune ;  and  in  the  intemperate  quarrels  of  youth  and 
wine,  their  swords,  though  less  frequently  than  of  old, 
are  sometimes  stained  with  each  other's  blood.    The  use 
of  arms  is  banished  from  our  English  universities:  the 
uniform  habit  of  the  academies,  the  square  cap  and  black 
gown,  is  adapted  to  the  civil  and  even  clerical  profession  ; 
and  from  the  doctor  in  divinity  to  the  under-graduate,  the 
degrees  of  learning  and  age  are  externally  distinguished. 
Instead  of  being  scattered  in  a  town,  the  students  of 
Oxford  and  Cambridge  are  united  in  colleges;  their 
maintenance  is  provided  at  their  own  expense,  or  that  of 
the  founders ;  and  the  stated  hours  of  the  hall  and  chapel 
represent  the  discipline  of  a  regular,  and,  as  it  were,  a 
religious  community.    The  eyes  of  the  traveller  are  at- 
tracted by  the  size  or  beauty  of  the  .public  edifices ;  and 
the  principal  colleges  appear  to  be  so  many  palaces, 
which  a  liberal  nation  has  erected  and  endowed  for  the 
habitation  of  science.    My  own  introduction  to  the  uni- 
versity of  Oxford  forms  a  new  aera  in  my  life  ;  and  at  the 
distance  of  forty  years  I  still  remember  my  first  emotions 
of  surprise  and  satisfaction.    In  my  fifteenth  year  I  felt 
myself  suddenly  raised  from  a  boy  to  a  man :  the  per- 


THE  AUTHOB  ENTERS  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD.  45 


sons,  whom  I  respected  as  my  superiors  in  age  and  aca- 
demical rank,  entertained  me  with  every  mark  of  atten- 
tion and  civihty ,  and  my  vanity  was  flattered  by  the 
velvet  cap  and  silk  gown,  which  distinguished  a  gentle- 
man commoner  from  a  plebian  student.  A  decent  allow- 
ance, more  money  than  a  school-boy  had  ever  seen,  was 
at  my  own  disposal ;  and  I  might  command,  among  the 
tradesmen  of  Oxford,  an  indefinite  and  dangerous  latitude 
of  credit.  A  key  was  delivered  into  my  hands,  which 
gave  me  the  free  use  of  a  numerous  and  learned  library ; 
my  apartment  consisted  of  three  elegant  and  well-fur- 
nished rooms  in  the  new  building,  a  stately  pile,  of  Mag- 
dalen College ;  and  the  adjacent  walks,  had  they  been 
frequented  by  Plato's  disciples,  might  have  been  com- 
pared to  the  Attic  shade  on  the  banks  of  the  Ilissus. 
Such  was  the  fair  prospect  of  my  entrance  (April  3, 
1752),  into  the  university  of  Oxford. 

A  venerable  prelate,  whose  taste  and  erudition  must 
reflect  honour  on  the  society  in  whicn  they  were  formed, 
has  drawn  a  very  interesting  picture  of  his  academical 
life. — "  I  was  educated  (says  Bishop  Lowth)  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Oxford.  I  enjoyed  all  the  advantages,  both 
public  and  private,  which  that  famous  seat  of  learning  so 
largely  affords.  I  spent  many  years  in  that  illustrious 
society,  in  a  well-regulated  course  of  useful  discipline 
and  studies,  and  in  the  agreeable  and  improving  com- 
merce of  gentlemen  and  scholars ;  in  a  society  where 
emulation  without  envy,  ambition  without  jealousy,  con- 
tention without  animosity,  incited  industry,  and  awakened 
genius  ;  where  a  liberal  pursuit  of  knowledge,  and  a  ge- 
nuine  freedom  of  thought,  was  raised,  encouraged,  and 


46   THE  AUTHOR  ENTERS  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD. 


pushed  forward  by  example,  by  commendation,  and  by 
authority.  I  breathed  the  same  atmosphere  that  the 
Hookers,  the  ChilUngworths,  and  the  Lockes  had  breathed 
before  ;  whose  benevolence  and  humanity  were  as  exten- 
sive as  their  vast  genius  and  comprehensive  knowledge ; 
who  always  treated  their  adversaries  with  civility  and 
respect ;  who  made  candour,  moderation,  and  liberal 
judgment  as  much  the  rule  and  law  as  the  subject  of 
their  discourse.  And  do  you  reproach  me  with  my  edu- 
cation in  this  place,  and  with  my  relation  to  this  most 
respectable  body,  which  I  shall  always  esteem  my 
greatest  advantage  and  my  highest  honour?"  I  trans- 
cribe with  pleasure  this  eloquent  passage,  without  ex- 
amining what  benefits  or  what  rewards  were  derived  by 
Hooker,  or  Chillingworth,  or  Locke,  from  their  academi- 
cal institution ;  without  inquiring,  whether  in  this  angry 
controversy  the  spirit  of  Lowth  himself  is  purified  from 
the  intolerant  zeal,  which  Warburlon  had  ascribed  to  the 
genius  of  the  place.  It  may  indeed  be  observed,  that  the 
atmosphere  of  Oxford  did  not  agree  with  Mr.  Locke's 
constitution,  and  that  the  philosopher  justly  despised  the 
academical  bigots,  who  expelled  his  person  and  con- 
demned his  principles.  The  expression  of  gratitude  is  a 
virtue  and  a  pleasure :  a  Hberal  mind  will  delight  to 
cherish  and  celebrate  the  memory  of  its  parents  ;  and  the 
teachers  of  science  are  the  parents  of  the  mind.  I  ap- 
plaud the  filial  piety,  which  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  imi- 
tate ;  since  1  must  not  confess  an  imaginary  debt,  to 
assume  the  merit  of  a  just  or  generous  retribution.  To 
the  university  of  Oxford  /  acknowledge  no  obligation ; 
and  she  will  as  cheerfully  renounce  me  for  a  son,  as  I  am 


THE  AUTHOR  ENTERS  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD.  47 


willing  to  disclaim  her  for  a  mother.  I  spent  fourteen 
months  at  Magdalen  College ;  they  proved  the  fourteen 
months  the  most  idle  and  unprofitable  of  my  whole  life : 
and  the  reader  will  pronounce  between  the  school  and  the 
scholar ;  but  I  cannot  affect  to  believe  that  Nature  had 
disqualified  me  for  all  literary  pursuits.  The  specious 
and  ready  excuse  of  my  tender  age,  imperfect  prepara- 
tion, and  hasty  departure,  may  doubtless  be  alleged  ;  nor 
do  I  wish  to  defraud  such  excuses  of  their  proper  weight. 
Yet  in  my  sixteenth  year  I  was  not  devoid  of  capacity  or 
application ;  even  my  childish  reading  had  displayed  an 
early  though  blind  propensity  for  books  ;  and  the  shallow 
flood  might  have  been  taught  to  flow  in  a  deep  channel 
and  a  clear  stream.  In  the  discipline  of  a  well-consti- 
tuted academy,  under  the  guidance  of  skilful  and  vigilant 
professors,  I  should  gradually  have  risen  from  translations 
to  originals,  from  the  Latin  to  the  Greek  classics,  from 
dead  languages  to  living  science :  my  hours  would  have 
been  occupied  by  useful  and  agreeable  studies,  the  wan- 
derings of  fancy  would  have  been  restrained,  and  I  should 
have  escaped  the  temptations  of  idleness,  which  finally 
precipitated  my  departure  from  Oxford. 

Perhaps  in  a  separate  annotation  I  may  coolly  examine 
the  fabulous  and  real  antiquities  of  our  sister  universi- 
ties, a  question  which  has  kindled  such  fierce  and  foolish 
disputes  among  their  fanatic  sons.  In  the  mean  while,  it 
will  be  acknowledged  that  these  venerable  bodies  are  suf- 
ficiently old  to  partake  of  all  the  prejudices  and  infirmities 
of  age.  The  schools  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge  were 
founded  in  a  dark  age  of  false  and  barbarous  science ; 
and  they  are  still  tainted  with  the  vices  of  their  origin. 


48  THE  AUTHOR  ENTERS  MAGDA.LEN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD. 


Their  primitive  discipline  was  adapted  to  the  education  of 
priests  and  monks ;  and  the  government  still  remains  in 
the  hands  of  the  clergy,  an  order  of  men  whose  manners 
are  remote  from  the  present  world,  and  whose  eyes  are 
dazzled  by  the  light  of  philosophy.  The  legal  incorpora- 
tion of  these  societies  by  the  charters  of  popes  and  kings 
had  given  them  a  monopoly  of  the  public  instruction  ;  and 
the  spirit  of  monopolists  is  narrow,  lazy,  and  oppressive : 
their  work  is  more  costly  and  less  productive  than  that  of 
independent  artists ;  and  the  new  improvements  so 
eagerly  grasped  by  the  competition  of  freedom,  are  ad- 
mitted with  slow  and  sullen  reluctance  in  those  proud 
corporations,  above  the  fear  of  a  rival,  and  below  the 
confession  of  an  error.  We  may  scarcely  hope  that  any 
reformation  will  be  a  voluntary  act ;  and  so  deeply  are 
they  rooted  in  law  and  prejudice,  that  even  the  omnipo- 
tence of  parliament  would  shrink  from  an  inquiry  into 
the  state  and  abuses  of  the  two  universities. 

The  use  of  academical  degrees,  as  old  as  the  thirteenth 
century,  is  visibly  borrowed  from  the  mechanic  corpora- 
.  tions ;  in  which  an  apprentice,  after  serving  his  time,  ob- 
*  tains  a  testimonial  of  his  skill,  and  a  license  to  practice 
his  trade  and  mystery.    It  is  not  my  design  to  depreciate 
those  honours,  which  could  never  gratify  or  disappoint 
my  ambition ;  and  I  should  applaud  the  institution,  if  the 
degrees  of  bachelor  or  licentiate  were  bestowed  as  the 
reward  of  manly  and  successful  study :  if  the  name  and 
rank  of  doctor  or  master  were  strictly  reserved  for  the 
professors  of  science,  who  have  approved  their  title  to  the 
public  esteem. 
In  all  the  universities  of  Europe,  excepting  our  own, 


THE  AUTHOR  ENTERS  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD.  49 


the  languages  and  sciences  are  distributed  among  a 
numerous  list  of  effective  professors :  the  students,  ac- 
cording to  their  taste,  their  calling,  and  their  diligence, 
apply  themselves  to  the  proper  masters:  and  in  the 
annual  repetition  of  public  and  private  lectures,  these 
masters  are  assiduously  employed.  Our  curi(  sity  may 
inquire  what  number  of  pi'ofessors  has  been  instituted  at 
Oxford  ?  (for  I  shall  now  confine  myself  to  my  own  uni- 
versity ;)  by  whom  they  are  appointed,  and  what  may  be 
the  probable  chances  of  merit  or  incapacity;  how  many 
are  stationed  to  the  three  faculties,  and  how  many  are  left 
for  the  liberal  arts ;  what  is  the  form,  and  what  the  sub- 
stance of  their  lessons?  But  all  these  questions  are 
silenced  by  one  short  and  singular  answer,  "  That  in  the 
University  of  Oxford,  the  greater  part  of  the  public  pro- 
fessors have  for  these  many  years  given  up  altogether 
even  the  pretence  of  teaching."  Incredible  as  the  fact 
may  appear,  I  must  rest  my  belief  on  the  positive  and 
impartial  evidence  of  a  master  of  moral  and  political  wis- 
dom, who  had  himself  resided  at  Oxford.  Dr.  Adam 
Smith  assigns  as  the  cause  of  their  indolence,  that,  instead 
of  being  paid  by  voluntary  contributions,  which  would 
urge  them  to  increase  the  number,  and  to  deserve  the 
gratitude  of  their  pupils,  the  Oxford  professors  are  se- 
cure in  the  enjoyment  of  a  fixed  stipend,  without  the 
necessity  of  labour,  or  the  apprehension  of  control.  It 
has  indeed  been  observed,  nor  is  the  observation  absurd, 
that  excepting  in  experimental  sciences,  which  demand  a 
costly  apparatus  and  a  dexterous  band,  the  many  valuable 
treatises,  that  have  been  published  on  every  subject  of 
learning,  may  now  supescdc  the  ancient  mode  of  oral 


50  THE  AUTHOR  ENTERS  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD. 


instruction.  Were  this  principle  true  in  its  utmost  lati- 
tude, I  should  only  infer  that  the  offices  and  salaries, 
which  are  become  useless,  ought  without  delay  to  be 
abolished.  But  there  still  remains  a  material  difference 
between  a  book  and  a  professor ;  the  hour  of  the  lec- 
turer enforces  attendance ;  attention  is  fixed  by  the  pre- 
sence, the  voice,  and  the  occasional  questions  of  the 
teacher :  the  most  idle  will  carry  something  away ;  and 
the  more  diligent  will  compare  the  instructions,  which 
they  have  heard  in  the  school,  with  the  volumes,  which 
they  peruse  in  their  chamber.  The  advice  of  a  skilful 
professor  will  adapt  a  course  of  reading  to  every  mind 
and  every  situation  ;  his  authority  will  discover,  admonish, 
and  at  last  chastise  the  negligence  of  his  disciples;  and 
his  vigilant  inquiries  will  ascertain  the  steps  of  their  lite- 
rary progress.  Whatever  science  he  professes,  he  may 
illustrate  in  a  series  of  discourses,  composed  in  the  leisure 
of  his  closet,  pronounced  on  public  occasions,  and  finally 
delivered  to  the  press.  I  observe  with  pleasure,  that,  in 
the  University  of  Oxford,  Dr.  Lowth,  with  equal  elo- 
quence and  erudition,  has  executed  this  task  in  his  incom- 
parable Preelections  on  the  Poetry  of  the  Hebrews. 

The  college  of  St.  Mary  Magdalen  was  founded  in 
the  fifteenth  century  by  Wainfleet,  Bishop  of  Winchester; 
and  now  consists  of  a  president,  forty  fellows,  and  a  num- 
ber of  inferior  students.  It  is  esteemed  one  of  the  largest 
and  most  wealthy  of  our  academical  corporations,  which 
may  be  compared  to  the  Benedictine  abbeys  of  catholic 
countries ;  and  I  have  loosely  heard  that  the  estates  be- 
longing to  Magdalen  College,  which  are  leased  by  those 
indulgent  landlords  at  small  quit-rents  and  occasional  fines. 


THE  AUTHOR  ENTERS  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXIOUD.  51 


might  be  raised  in  the  hands  of  private  avarice  to  an  an- 
nual revenue  of  nearly  thirty  thousand  pounds.    Our  col- 
leges are  supposed  to  be  schools  of  science  as  well  as  of 
education ;  nor  is  it  unreasonable  to  expect  that  a  body 
of  literary    men,  devoted  to   a  life  of  celibacy,  ex- 
empt from  the  care  of  their  own  subsistence,  and  amply 
provided  with  books,  should  devote  their  leisure  to  the 
prosecution  of  study,  and  that  some  effects  of  their  studies 
should  be  manifested  to  the  world.    The  shelves  of  their 
library  groan  under  the  weight  of  the  Benedictine  folios, 
of  the  editions  of  the  fathers,  and  the  collections  of  the 
middle  ages,  which  have  issued  from  the  single  abbey  of 
St.  Geimain  dcs  Pres  at  Paris.    A  composition  of  genius 
must  be  the  offspring  of  one  mind ;  but  such  works  of 
industry  as  may  be  divided  among  many  hands,  and 
must  be  continued  during  many  years,  are  the  peculiar 
province  of  a  laborious  community.    If  I  inquire  into  the 
manufactures  of  the  monks  of  Magdalen,  if  1  extend  the 
inquiry  to  the  other  colleges  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  a 
silent  blush,  or  a  scornful  frown,  will  be  the  only  reply. 
The  fellows  or  monks  of  my  time  were  decent  easy  men, 
who  supinely  enjoyed  the  gifts  of  the  founder ;  their  days 
were  filled  by  a  series  of  uniform  employments  ;  the 
chapel  and  the  hall,  the  coffee-house  and  the  common 
room,  till  they  retired,  weary  and  well  satisfied,  to  a  long 
slumber.    From  the  toil   of  reading,  or  thinking,  or 
writing,  they  had  absolved  their  conscience ;  and  the  first 
shoots  of  learning  and  ingenuity  withered  on  the  ground, 
without  yielding  any  fruits  to  the  owners  or  the  public. 
As  a  gentleman  commoner,  I  was  admitted  to  the  society 
of  the  fellows,  and  fondly  expected  that  some  questions 


52  THE  AUTHOU  ENTERS  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD. 


of  literature  would  be  the  amusing  and  instructive  topics 
of  their  discourse.  Their  conversation  stagnated  in  a 
round  ol  college  business,  Tory  politics,  personal  anec- 
dotes, and  private  scandal :  their  dull  and  deep  potations 
excused  the  brisk  intemperance  of  youth  ;  and  their  con- 
stitutional toasts  were  not  expressive  of  the  most  lively 
loyalty  for  the  house  of  Hanover.  A  general  election 
was  now  approaching :  the  great  Oxfordshire  contest 
already  blazed  with  all  the  malevolence  of  party  zeal. 
Magdalen  College  was  devoutly  attached  to  the  old  in- 
terest ;  and  the  names  of  Wenman  and  Dashwood  were 
more  frequently  pronounced  than  those  of  Cicero  and  Chry- 
sostom.  The  example  of  the  senior  fellows  could  not  in- 
spire the  undcr-graduates  with  a  liberal  spirit  or  studious 
emulation ;  and  I  cannot  describe,  as  I  never  knew,  the 
discipline  of  college.  Some  duties  may  possibly  have 
been  imposed  on  the  poor  scholars,  whose  ambition  as- 
pired to  the  peaceful  honours  of  a  fellowship  (ascribi 
quietis  ordinihus  deorum)  ;  but  no  independent  mem- 
bers were  admitted  below  the  rank  of  a  gentleman  com- 
moner, and  our  velvet  cap  was  the  cap  of  liberty.  A 
tradition  prevailed  that  some  of  our  predecessors  had 
spoken  Latin  declamations  in  the  hall ;  but  of  this  ancient 
custom  no  vestige  remained :  the  obvious  methods  of 
public  exercises  and  examinations  were  totally  unknown  ; 
and  I  have  never  heard  that  either  the  president  or  the 
society  interfered  in  the  private  economy  of  the  tutors 
and  their  pupils. 

The  silence  of  the  Oxford  professors,  which  deprives 
the  youth  of  public  instruction,  is  imperfectly  supplied  by 
the  tutors,  as  they  are  styled,  of  the  several  colleges. 


THE  AUTHOR  ENTERS  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD.  63 


Instead  of  confining  themselves  to  a  single  science  which 
had  satisfied  the  ambition  of  Burman  or  Bernoulli,  they 
teach,  or  promise  to  teach,  either  history  or  mathematics, 
or  ancient  literature,  or  moral  philosophy :  and  as  it  is 
possible  that  they  may  be  defective  in  all,  it  is  highly 
probable  that  of  some  they  will  be  ignorant.  They  are 
paid,  indeed,  by  private  contributions ;  but  their  appoint- 
ment depends  on  the  head  of  the  house :  their  diligence 
is  voluntary,  and  will  consequently  be  languid,  while  the 
pupils  themselves,  or  their  parents,  are  not  indulged  in  the 
liberty  of  choice  or  change.  The  first  tutor  into  whose 
hands  I  was  resigned,  appears  to  have  been  one  of  the 
best  of  the  tribe  ;  Dr.  Waldegrave  was  a  learned  and  pious 
man,  of  a  mild  disposition,  strict  morals,  and  abstemious 
life,  who  seldom  mingled  in  the  politics  or  the  jollity  of 
the  college.  But  his  knowledge  of  the  world  was  con- 
fined to  the  university ;  his  learning  was  of  the  last, 
rather  than  of  the  present  age  ;  his  temper  was  indolent ; 
his  faculties,  which  were  not  of  the  first  rate,  had  been 
relaxed  by  the  climate,  and  he  was  satisfied,  like  his  fel- 
lows, with  the  slight  and  superficial  discharge  of  an 
important  trust.  As  soon  as  my  tutor  had  sounded  the 
insufficiency  of  his  disciple  in  school  learning,  he  proposed 
that  we  should  read  every  morning  from  ten  to  eleven  the 
comedies  of  Terence.  The  sum  of  my  improvement  in 
the  University  of  Oxford  is  confined  to  three  or  four 
Latin  plays ;  and  even  the  study  of  an  elegant  classic, 
which  might  have  been  illustrated  by  a  comparison  of 
ancient  and  modern  theatres,  was  reduced  to  a  dry  and 
literal  interpretation  of  the  author's  text.  During  the 
first  weeks  I  constantly  attended  these  lessons  in  my 


54  THE  AUTHOR  ENTERS  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD. 


tutor's  room ;  but  as  they  appeared  equally  devoid  of 
profit  or  pleasure,  I  was  once  tempted  to  try  the  experi- 
ment of  a  formal  apology.  The  apology  was  accepted 
with  a  smile.  I  repeated  the  offence  with  less  ceremony; 
the  excuse  was  admitted  with  the  same  indulgence :  the 
slightest  motive  of  laziness  or  indisposition,  the  most 
trifling  avocation  at  home  or  abroad,  was  allowed  as  a 
worthy  impediment ;  nor  did  my  tutor  appear  conscious 
of  my  absense  or  neglect.  Had  the  hour  of  lecture  been 
constantly  filled,  a  single  hour  was  a  small  portion  of  my 
academical  leisure.  No  plan  of  study  was  recommended 
for  my  use ;  no  exercises  were  prescribed  for  his  inspec- 
tion ;  and,  at  the  most  precious  season  of  youth,  whole 
days  and  weeks  were  suffered  to  elapse  without  la- 
bour or  amusement,  without  advice  or  account.  I 
should  have  listened  to  the  voice  of  reason  and  of  my 
tutor ;  his  mild  behaviour  had  gained  my  confidence. 
I  preferred  his  society  to  that  of  the  younger  students : 
and  in  our  evening  walks  to  the  top  of  Heddington 
Hill,  we  freely  conversed  on  a  variety  of  subjects. 
Since  the  days  of  Pocock  and  Hyde,  oriental  learning 
has  always  been  the  pride  of  Oxford,  and  I  once  ex- 
pressed an  inclination  to  study  Arabic.  His  prudence 
discouraged  this  childish  fancy ;  but  he  neglected  the 
fair  occasion  of  directing  the  ardour  of  a  curious  mind. 
During  my  absence  in  the  summer  vacation.  Dr.  Walde- 
grave  accepted  a  college  living  at  Washington,  in 
Sussex,  and  on  my  return  I  no  longer  found  him  at 
Oxford.  From  that  time  I  have  lost  sight  of  my  first 
tutor;  but  at  the  end  of  thirty  years  (1781)  he  was 
still  alive ;  and  the  practice  of  exercise  and  temperance 
had  entitled  him  to  a  healthy  old  age. 


CHAP.  VIII. 


THE  AUTHOR'S  FIRST  ATTEMPT  AT  WRITING 
HISTORY. 

The  long  recess  between  the  Trinity  and  Michaelmas 
terms  empties  the  College  of  Oxford,  as  well  as  the  courts 
ofWestminster.  I  spent,  at  my  father's  house  at  Buriton, 
in  Hampshire,  the  two  months  of  August  and  September. 
It  is  whimsical  enough,  that  as  soon  as  I  left  Magdalen 
College,  my  taste  for  books  began  to  revive ;  but  it  was 
the  same  blind  and  boyish  taste  for  the  pursuit  of  exotic, 
history.  Unprovided  with  original  learning,  uninformed] 
in  the  habit  of  thinking,  unskilled  in  the  arts  of  composi-j 
lions,  I  resolved — to  write  a  book.  The  title  of  this  firsts 
essay,  the  Age  of  Sesostris ,  was  perhaps  suggested  by 
Voltaire's  Age  of  Louis  XlV.  which  was  new  and  popu- 
lar ;  but  my  sole  object  was  to  investigate  the  probable 
date  of  the  life  and  reign  of  the  conqueror  of  Asia.  I 
was  then  enamoured  of  Sir  John  Marsham's  Canon 
Chronicus;  an  elaborate  work,  of  whose  merits  and 
defects  I  was  not  yet  qualified  to  judge.  According  to 
his  specious,  though  narrow  plan,  I  settled  my  hero 
about  the  time  of  Solomon,  in  the  tenth  century  before  the 
Christian  sera.  It  was  therefore  incumbent  on  me,  unless 
I  would  adopt  Sir  Isaac  Newton's  shorter  chronology,  to 
remove  a  formidable  objection ;  and  my  solution,  for  a 


56 


THE  AUTHOE'S  FIRST  ATTEMPT 


youth  of  fifteen,  is  not  devoid  of  ingenuity.  In  his  version 
of  the  Sacred  Books,  Manetho,  the  high  priest,  has  iden- 
tified Sethosis,  or  Sesostris,  with  the  elder  brother  of 
Danaus,  who  landed  in  Greece,  according  to  the  Parian 
Marble,  1510  years  before  Christ.  But  in  my  supposition 
the  high  priest  is  guilty  of  a  voluntary  error ;  flattery  is 
the  prolific  parent  of  falsehood.  Manetho's  History  of 
Egypt  is  dedicated  to  Ptolemy  Philadelphus,  who  derived 
a  fabulous  or  illegitimate  pedigree  from  the  Macedonian 
kings  of  the  race  of  Hercules.  Danaus  is  the  ancestor  of 
Hercules ;  and  after  the  failure  of  the  elder  branch,  his 
descendants,  the  Ptolemies,  are  the  sole  representatives 
of  the  royal  family,  and  may  claim  by  inheritance  the 
kingdom  which  they  hold  by  conquest.  Such  were  my 
juvenile  discoveries  ;  at  a  riper  age,  I  no  longer  presume 
to  connect  the  Greek,  the  Jewish,  and  the  Egyptian  an- 
tiquities, which  are  lost  in  a  distant  cloud.  Nor  is  this 
the  only  instance,  in  which  the  belief  and  knowledge  of 
the  child  are  superseded  by  the  more  rational  ignorance 
of  the  man.  During  my  stay  at  Buriton,  my  infant  labour 
was  diligently  prosecuted,  without  much  interruption  from 
company  or  country  diyersi©ns ;  and  I  already  heard  the 
music  of  public  applause.  The  discovery  of  my  own 
weakness  was  the  first  symptom  of  taste.  On  my  return 
to  Oxford,  the  Age  of  Sesostris  was  wisely  relinquished  ; 
but  the  imperfect  sheets  remained  twenty  years  at  the 
bottom  of  a  drawer,  till,  in  a  general  clearance  of  papers, 
(November,  1772,)  they  were  committed  to  the  flames. 

After  the  departure  of  Dr.  Waldegrave,  I  was  trans- 
ferred, with  his  other  pupils,  to  his  academical  heir,  whose 
literary  character  did  not  command  the  respect  of  the 


AT  WRITING  HISTORY. 


57 


college.    Dr.  ****  well  remembered  that  he  had  a  salary  < 
to  receive,  and  only  forgot  that  he  had  a  duty  to  perform.* 
Instead  of  guiding  the  studies,  and  watching  over  the  be- 
haviour of  his  disciple,  1  was  never  summoned  to  attend 
even  the  ceremony  of  a  lecture ;  and,  excepting  one 
voluntary  visit  to  his  rooms,  during  the  eight  months  of 
his  titular  office,  the  tutor  and  pupil  lived  in  the  same' 
college  as  strangers  to  each  other.    The  want  of  expe-' 
rience,  of  advice,  and  of  occupation,  soon  betrayed  me  into 
some  improprieties  of  conduct,  ill-chosen  company,  late 
hours,  and  inconsiderate  expense.    My  growing  debts 
might  be  secret ;  but  my  frequent  absence  was  visible 
and  scandalous  ;  and  a  tour  to  Bath,  a  visit  into  Bucking- 
hamshire, and  four  excursions  to  London  in  the  same- 
winter,  were  costly  and  dangerous  frolics.    They  were, 
indeed,  without  a  meaning,  as  without  an  excuse.    The , 
irksomeness  of  a  cloistered  life  repeatedly  tempted  me  to 
wander  ;  but  my  chief  pleasure  was  that  of  travelling  ;\ 
and  I  was  too  young  and  bashful  to  enjoy,  like  a  manly( 
Oxonian  in  town,  the  pleasures  of  London.    In  all  these 
excursions  I  eloped  from  Oxford  ;  I  returned  to  college ; 
in  a  few  days  I  eloped  again,  just  as  if  I  had  been  an  in- 
dependent stranger  in  a  hired  lodging,  without  once  hear- 
ing the  voice  of  admonition,  without  once  feelins;  the  hand 
of  control.     Yet  my  time  was  lost,  my  expenses  were 
multiplied,  my  behaviour  abroad  was  unknown ;  folly  as 
well  as  vice  should  have  awakened  the  attention  of  my 
superiors,  and  my  tender  years  would  have  justified  a 
more  than  ordinary  degi'ee  of  restraint  and  discipline. 

It  might,  at  least,  be  expected  that  an  ecclesiastical 
school  should  inculcate  the  orthodox  principles  of  religion. 


58 


THE  AUTHORS  FIRST  ATTEMPT 


But  our  venerable  mother  had  contrived  to  unite  the  op- 
posite extremes  of  bigotry  and  indilference  ;  a  heretic,  or 
unbeliever,  was  a  monster  in  her  eyes  ;  but  she  was  al- 
ways, or  often,  or  sometimes,  remiss  in  the  spiritual  edu- 
cation of  her  own  children.    According  to  the  statutes  of 
the  university,  every  student  before  he  is  matriculated, 
must  subsci'ibe  his  assent  to  the  thirty-nine  articles  of  the 
church  of  England,  which  are  signed  by  more  than  read, 
and  read  by  more  than  believe  them.    My  insufficient 
age  excused  me,  however,  from  the  immediate  perform- 
ance of  this  legal  ceremony  ;  and  the  vice-chancellor 
directed  me  to  return,  as  soon  as  I  should  have  accom- 
plished my  fifteenth  year ;   recommending   me,  in  the 
mean  while,  to  the  instruction  of  my  college.    My  college 
forgot  to  instruct :  I  forgot  to  return,  and  was  myself  for- 
/gotten  by  the  first  magistrate  of  the  university.  With- 
Vut  a  single  lecture,  either  public  or  private,  either  chris- 
jtian  or  protestant,  without  any  academical  subscription, 
^without  any  episcopal  confirmation ;  I  was  left  by  the 
^im  light  of  my  catechism  to  grope  my  way  to  the  chapel 
/'and  communion  table,  where  I  was  admitted,  without  a 
'question  how  far,  or  by  what  means,  I  might  be  qualified 
^to  receive  the  sacrament.    Such  almost  incredible  nefi;lect 
was  productive  of  the  worst  mischiefs.    From  mychild- 
r^ood  I  have  been  fond  of  religious  disputation :  my  poor 
/  aunt  has  been  often  puzzled  by  the  mysteries  which  she 
(  strove  to  believe  ;  nor  had  the  clastic  spring  been  totally 
.  broken  by  the  weight  of  the  atmosphere  of  Oxford.  The 
blind  activity  of  idleness  urged  me  to  advance  without 
(  ai'mour  into  the  dangerous  mazes  of  controversy ;  and, 
^  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  1  bewildered  myself  in  the  errors  of 


AT  WRITING  HISTORY. 


59 


the  church  of  Rome.  The  progress  of  my  conversion 
may  tend  to  illustrate,  at  least,  the  history  of  my  own 
mind.  It  was  not  long  since  Dr.  Middleton's  Free  In-- 
quiry  had  sounded  an  alarm  in  the  theological  world :/ 
much  ink  and  much  gall  had  been  spilled  in  the  defence 
of  the  primitive  miracles ;  and  the  two  dullest  of  their 
champions  were  crowned  with  academic  honours  by  the 
University  of  Oxford.  The  name  of  Middleton  was  un- 
popular ;  and  his  proscription  very  naturally  led  me  to 
peruse  his  writings,  and  those  of  his  antagonists.  His 
bold  criticism,  which  approaches  the  precipice  of  infide- 
lity, produced  on  my  mind  a  singular  effect ;  and  had  I 
persevered  in  the  communion  of  Rome,  1  should  now 
apply  to  my  own  fortune  the  prediction  of  the  Sybil, 

Via  prima  salutis, 
Quod  minime  reris,  Graid,  pandetur  ab  urbe. 

The  elegance  of  style  and  freedom  of  argument  were  re- 
pelled by  a  shield  of  prejudice.  I  still  revered  the  cha- 
racter, or  rather  the  names,  of  the  saints  and  fathers 
whom  Dr.  Middleton  exposes ;  nor  could  he  destroy  my 
implicit  belief,  that  the  gift  of  miraculous  powers  was 
continued  in  the  church,  during  the  first  four  or  five  cen- 
turies of  Christianity.  But  I  was  unable  to  resist  the 
weight  of  historical  evidence,  that  within  the  same  period 
most  of  the  leading  doctrines  of  popery  were  already  in- 
troduced in  theory  and  practice  :  nor  was  my  conclusion 
absurd,  that  miracles  are  the  test  of  truth,  and  that  the 
church  must  be  orthodox  and  pure,  which  was  so  often  ap- 
proved by  the  visible  interposition, of  the  Deity.  The 
marvellous  tales  which  are  so  boldy  attested  by  the  Basils 


60 


THE  AUTH©R'S  FIRST  ATTEMPT 


Chrysostoms,  the  Austins  and  Jeromes,  compelled  me  to 
embrace  the  superior  merits  of  celibacy,  the  institution 
of  the  monastic  life,  the  use  of  the  sign  of  the  cross,  of 
holy  oil,  and  even  of  images,  the  invocation  of  saints,  the 
worship  of  relics,  the  rudiments  of  purgatory  in  prayers 
for  the  dead,  and  the  tremendous  mystery  of  the  sacrifice  of 
the  body  and  blood  of  Christ,  which  insensibly  swelled 
into  the  prodigy  of  transubstantiation.  In  these  dispo- 
sitions, and  already  more  than  half  a  convert,  I  formed 
an  unlucky  intimacy  with  a  young  gentleman  of  our 
college,  whose  name  I  shall  spare.  With  a  character 
less  resolute,  Mr.  ****  had  imbibed  the  same  religious 
opinions ;  and  some  popish  books,  I  know  not  through 
what  channel,  were  conveyed  into  his  possession.  I  read, 
I  applauded,  I  believed  ;  the  English  translations  of  two 
famous  works  of  Bossuet,  Bishop  of  Meaux,  the  Exposi- 
tion of  the  Catholic  Doctrine,  and  the  History  of  the  Pro- 
testant Variations,  achieved  my  conversion,  and  I  surely 
fell  by  a  noble  hand.*  I  have  since  examined  the  oi'iginals 
with  a  more  discerning  eye,  and  shall  not  hesitate  to  pro- 
nounce, that  Bossuet  is  indoed  a  master  of  ail  the  weapons 
of  controversy.  In  the  exposition,  a  specious  apology, 
the  orator  assumes,  with  consummate  art,  the  tone  of 
candour  and  simplicity :  and  the  ten-horned  monster  is 
transformed,  at  his  magic  touch,  into  the  milk-white  hind, 
who  must  be  loved  as  soon  as  she  is  seen.  In  the  History, 
a  bold  and  well-aimed  attack,  he  displays,  with  a  happy 

*  Mr.  Gibbon  never  talked  with  me  on  the  subject  of  Lis  conversion  to 
popery  but  once ;  and  then  he  imputed  liis  change  to  tiie  works  of  Parsons 
the  jes'jit,  who  hved  in  the  reign  of  Eliitabeth,  and  who,  he  said,  had 
urged  ail  tlie  best  arguments  in  favour  of  the  Roman  Catholic  religion. — S. 


AT  WRITING  HISTORY. 


61 


mixture  of  narrative  and  argument,  the  faults  and  follies, 
the  changes  and  conti'adictions  of  our  first  reformers ; 
whose  variations  (as  he  dexterously  contends)  are  the 
mark  of  historical  error,  while  the  perpetual  unity  of  the 
catholic  church  is  the  sign  and  test  of  infallible  truth. 
To  my  present  feelings  it  seems  incredible  that  I  should 
ever  believe  that  I  believed  in  transubstantiation.  But 
my  conqueror  oppressed  me  with  the  sacramental  words, 
"  Hoc  est  corpus  meum,"  and  dashed  against  each  other 
the  figurative  half-meanings  of  the  Protestant  sects :  every 
objection  was  resolved  into  omnipotence ;  and  after  re- 
peating at  St.  Mary's  the  Athanasian  creed,  I  humbly  ac- 
quiesced in  the  mystery  of  the  real  presence. 

"  To  take  up  half  on  trust,  aiid  half  to  tiy, 
Name  it  not  faith,  but  bungling  bigotry. 
Both  knave  and  fool,  the  merchant  we  may  call, 
To  pay  great  sums,  and  to  compound  the  small. 
For  who  would  break  with  Heaven,  and  would  not  break  for  all  ?" 

No  sooner  had  1  settled  my  new  religion  than  I  resolved 
to  profess  myself  a  Catholic.  Youth  is  sincere  and  im- 
petuous ;  and  a  momentary  glow  of  enthusiasm  had 
raised  me  above  all  temporal  considerations.* 

By  the  keen  Protestants,  who  would  gladly  retaliate 
the  example  of  persecution,  a  clamour  is  raised  of  the  in- 
crease of  popery :  and  they  are  always  loud  to  declaim 
agains*  the  toleration  of  priests  and  Jesuits,  who  pervert 
so  many  of  his  Majesty's  subjects  from  their  religion  and 
allegiance.  On  the  present  occasion,  the  fall  of  one  or 
more  of  her  sons  directed  this  clamour  against  the  uni- 


.  :  *^e  described  the  letter  to  his  father,  announcing  his  conversion,  as 
y^^ete,  with  all  the  pomp,  the  dignity,  and  self-satisfaction  of  a  martyr. — S. 


62 


THE  AUTHORS  FIRST  ATTEMPT 


versity ;  and  it  was  confidently  affirmed  tnat  popish 
missionaries  were  suffered,  under  various  disguises,  to 
introduce  themselves  into  the  colleges  of  Oxford.  But 
justice  obliges  me  to  declare,  that,  as  far  as  relates  to 
myself,  this  assertion  is  false ;  and  that  I  never  conversed 
with  a  priest,  or  even  with  a  papist,  till  my  resolution 
from  books  was  absolutely  fixed.  In  my  last  excursion 
to  London,  I  addressed  myself  to  Mr.  Lewis,  a  Roman 
Catholic  bookseller,  in  Russell-street,  Covent-garden,  who 
recommended  me  to  a  priest,  of  whose  name  and  order  I 
^_axa  at  present  ignorant.  In  our  first  interview  he  soon 
discovered  that  persuasion  was  needless.  After  sound- 
ing the  motives  and  merits  of  my  conversion,  he  consented 
to  admit  me  into  the  pale  of  the  church  ;  and  at  his  feet, 
on  the  eighth  of  June  1753,  I  solemnly,  though  privately, 
abjured  the  errors  of  heresy.  The  seduction  of  an  Eng- 
lish youth  of  family  and  fortune  was  an  act  of  as  much 
danger  as  glory ;  but  he  bravely  overlooked  the  danger, 
of  which  I  was  not  then  sufficiently  informed.  "  Where 
a  person  is  reconciled  to  the  see  of  Rome,  or  procures 
others  to  be  reconciled,  the  offence  (says  Blackstone) 
amounts  to  high  treason."  And  if  the  humanity  of  the 
age  would  prevent  the  execution  of  this  sanguinary 
statute,  there  were  other  laws  of  a  less  odious  cast,  which 
condemned  the  priest  to  perpetual  imprisonment,  and 
transferred  the  proselyte's  estate  to  his  nearest  r^ation. 
An  elaborate  controversial  epistle,  approved  by  my  direc- 
tor and  addressed  to  my  father,  announced  and  justified 
the  step  which  I  had  taken.  My  father  was  neither  a  bigot 
nor  a  philosopher ;  but  his  affection  deplored  the  loss  of 
an  only  son ;  and  his  good  sense  was  astonished  at  my 


AT  WRITING  HISTORY. 


63 


Strange  departure  from  the  religion  of  my  country.  In 
the  first  sally  of  passion  he  divulged  a  secret  which  pru- 
dence might  have  suppressed,  and  the  gates  of  Magdalen 
College  were  for  ever  shut  against  my  return.  Many 
years  afterwards,  when  the  name  of  Gibbon  was  become 
as  notorious  as  that  of  Middleton,  it  was  industriously 
■whispered  at  Oxford,  that  the  historian  had  formerly 
"  turned  papist :"  my  character  stood  exposed  to  the  re- 
proach of  inconstancy  ;  and  this  invidious  topic  would 
have  been  handled  without  mercy  by  my  opponents, 
could  they  have  separated  my  cause  from  that  of  the 
university.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  proud  of  an  honest 
sacrifice  of  interest  to  conscience.  I  can  never  blush, 
if  my  tender  mind  was  entangled  in  the  sophistry  that 
seduced  the  acute  and  manly  understandings  of  Chilling- 
worth  and  Bayle,  who  afterwards  emerged  from  supersti- 
tion to  scepticism. 

While  Charles  the  First  governed  England,  and  was 
himself  governed  by  a  catholic  queen,  it  cannot  be  de- 
nied that  the  missionaries  of  Rome  laboured  with  im- 
punity and  success  in  the  court,  the  country  and  even 
the  universities.    One  of  the  sheep, 

 Whom  the  grim  wolfe  with  privy  paw 

Daily  devours  apace,  and  nothmg  said, 

is  Mr.  William  Chillingworth,  Master  of  Arts,  and  Fel- 
low of  Trinity  College,  Oxford ;  who,  at  the  ripe  age  of 
twenty-eight  years,  was  persuaded  to  elope  from  Oxford 
to  the  English  seminary  at  Douay  in  Flanders.  Some 
disputes  with  Fisher,  a  subtle  Jesuit,  might  first  awaken 
him  from  the  prejudices  of  education  :  but  he  yielded  to 


64 


THE  AUTHOR'S  FIRST  ATTEMPT 


his  own  victorious  argument,  "  that  there  must  be  some- 
where an  infallible  judge  ;  and  that  the  church  of  Rome 
is  the  only  christian  society  which  either  does  or  can 
pretend  to  that  character."  After  a  short  trial  of  a  few 
months,  Mr.  Chillingworth  was  again  tormented  by  reli- 
gious scruples :  he  returned  home,  resumed  his  studies, 
unravelled  his  mistakes,  and  delivered  his  mind  from  thje 
yoke  of  authority  and  superstition.  His  new  creed  was 
bui!t  on  the  principle,  that  the  Bible  is  our  sole  judge, 
and  private  reason  our  sole  interpreter :  and  he  ably 
maintains  this  principle  in  the  Religion  of  a  Protestant,  a 
book  which,  after  startling  the  doctors  of  Oxford,  is  still 
esteemed  the  most  solid  defence  of  the  Reformation. 
The  learning,  the  virtue,  the  recent  merits  of  the  author 
entitled  him  to  fair  preferment :  but  the  slave  had  now 
broken  his  fetters ;  and  the  more  he  weighed,  the  less 
was  he  disposed  to  subscribe  to  the  thirty-nine  articles  of 
the  church  of  England.  In  a  private  letter  he  declares, 
with  all  the  energy  of  language,  that  he  could  not  subscribe 
to  them  without  subscribing  to  his  own  damnation ;  and 
that  if  ever  he  should  depart  from  this  immovable  reso- 
lution, he  would  allow  his  friends  to  think  him  a  madman 
or  an  atheist.  As  the  letter  is  without  a  date,  we  cannot 
ascertain  the  number  of  weeks  or  months  that  elapsed 
between  this  passionate  abhorrence  and  the  Salisbury 
Register,  which  is  still  extant.  "  EgoGulielmus  Chilling- 
worth,  .  .  .  omnibus  hisce  articulis,  et  singulis 

in  iisdcm  contcntis  volens,  et  ex  animo  subscribo,  et  con- 
sensum  meum  iisdcm  praebco,  20  die  Julii  1 638."  But, 
alas  !  the  chancellor  and  prebendary  of  Sarum  soon  devi- 
ated from  his  own  subscription :  as  he  more  deeply  scru- 


AT  WRITING  HISTORY. 


C5 


tinized  the  article  of  the  Trinity,  neither  scripture  nor  the 
primitive  fathers  could  long  uphold  his  orthodox  belief ; 
and  he  could  not  but  confess,  "  that  the  doctrine  of  Arius 
is  either  a  truth,  or  at  least  no  damnable  heresy."  From 
this  middle  region  of  the  air,  the  descent  of  his  reason 
would  naturally  rest  on  the  firmer  ground  of  the  Soci- 
nians :  and  if  we  may  credit  a  doubtful  story,  and  the 
popular  opinion,  his  anxious  inquiries  at  last  subsided  in 
philosophic  indifference.  So  conspicuous,  however,  were 
the  candour  of  his  nature  and  the  innocence  of  his  heart, 
that  this  apparent  levity  did  not  affect  the  reputation  of 
Chillingworth.  His  frequent  changes  proceeded  from  too 
nice  an  inquisition  into  truth.  His  doubts  grew  out  of 
himself;  he  assisted  them  with  all  the  strength  of  his  rea- 
son: he  was  then  too  hard  for  himself:  but  finding  as 
little  quiet  and  repose  in  those  victories,  he  quickly  re- 
covered, by  a  new  appeal  to  his  own  judgment :  so  that 
in  all  his  sallies  and  retreats,  he  was  in  fact  his  own  con- 
vert. 

Bayle  was  the  son  of  a  Calvinist  minister  in  a  remote 
province  of  France,  at  the  foot  of  the  Pyrenees.  For  the 
benefit  of  education,  the  Protestants  were  tempted  to  risk 
their  children  in  the  catholic  universities ;  and  in  the 
twenty-second  year  of  his  age,  young  Bayle  was  seduced 
by  the  arts  and  arguments  of  the  Jesuits  of  Toulouse. 
He  remained  about  seventeen  months  (9th  March,  1669 
— 19th  August,  1570,)  in  their  hands,  a  voluntary  cap- 
tive ;  and  a  letter  to  his  parents,  which  the  new  convert 
composed  or  subscribed  (15th  April,  1670),  is  darkly 
tinged  with  the  spirit  of  popery.  But  nature  had  designed 
him  to  think  as  he  pleased,  and  to  speak  as  he  thought : 


66 


THE  AUTHOR'S  FIRST  ATTEMPT 


his  piety  was  offended  by  the  excessive  worship  of  crea- 
tures ;  and  the  study  of  physics  convinced  him  of  the 
impossibihty  of  transubstantiation,  which  is  abundantly 
refuted  by  the  testimony  of  our  senses.  His  return  to  the 
communion  of  a  falling  sect  was  a  bold  and  disinterested 
step,  that  exposed  him  to  the  rigour  of  the  laws ;  and  a 
speedy  flight  to  Geneva  protected  him  from  the  resent- 
ment of  his  spiritual  tyrants,  unconscious  as  they  were  of 
the  full  value  of  the  prize  which  they  had  lost.  Had 
Bayle  adhered  to  the  catholic  church,  had  he  embraced 
the  ecclesiastical  profession,  the  genius  and  favour  of 
such  a  proselyte  might  have  inspired  wealth  and  honours 
in  his  native  country ;  but  the  hypocrite  would  have 
found  less  happiness  in  the  comforts  of  a  benefice,  or  the 
dignity  of  a  mitre,  than  he  enjoyed  at  Rotterdam  in  a  pri- 
vate state  of  exile,  indigence,  and  freedom.  Without  a 
country,  or  a  patron,  or  a  prejudice,  he  claimed  the  liberty, 
and  subsisted  by  the  labours,  of  his  pen :  the  inequaUty  of 
his  volumnious  works  is  explained  and  excused  by  his 
alternately  writing  for  himself,  for  the  booksellers,  and 
for  posterity  ;  and  if  a  severe  critic  would  reduce  him  to 
a  single  folio,  that  relic,  like  the  books  of  the  Sybil,  would 
become  still  more  valuable.  A  calm  and  lofty  spectator 
of  the  religious  tempest,  the  philosopher  of  Rotterdam 
condemned  with  equal  firmness  the  persecution  of  Louis 
the  Fourteenth,  and  the  republican  maxims  of  the  Cal- 
vinists ;  their  vain  prophecies,  and  the  intolerant  bigotry 
which  sometimes  vexed  his  solitary  retreat.  In  reviewing 
the  controversies  of  the  times,  he  turned  against  each 
other  the  arguments  of  the  disputants ;  successively 
wields  the  arms  of  the  Catholics  and  Protestants,  he 


AT  WRITING  HISTORY.  .  ^  67 


proves  that  neither  the  way  of  authority  nor  the  way  of 
examination  can  afford  the  multitude  any  test  of  religious 
truth  ;  and  dexterously  concludes  that  custom  and  educa- 
tion must  bo  the  sole  grounds  of  popular  belief.  The 
ancient  paradox  of  Plutarch,  that  atheism  is  less  perni- 
cious than  superstition,  acquires  a  tenfold  vigour,  when 
it  is  adorned  with  the  colours  of  his  wit,  and  pointed  with 
the  acuteness  of  his  logic.  His  Critical  Dictionary  is  a 
vast  repository  of  facts  and  opinions ;  and  he  balances 
ihe  false  religions  in  his  sceptical  scales,  till  the  opposite 
quantities  (if  I  may  use  the  language  of  algebra)  annihi- 
late each  other.  The  wonderful  power  which  he  so 
boldly  exercised,  of  assembling  doubts  and  objections, 
had  tempted  him  jocosely  to  assume  the  title  of  the 
»=(p£X'>)yepeTa  Zevj,  the  cloud-compelling  Jove  ;  and  in  a  con- 
versation with  the  ingenious  Abbe  (afterwards  Cardinal) 
de  Polignac,  he  freely  disclosed  his  universal  Pyrrhonism. 
"  I  am  most  truly  (said  Bayle)  a  Protestant ;  for  I  protest 
indifferently  against  all  systems  and  all  sects." 

The  academical  resentment,  which  1  may  possibly 
have  provoked,  will  prudently  spare  this  plain  narrative 
of  my  studies,  or  rather  of  my  idleness,  and  of  the  unfor- 
tunate event  which  shortened  the  term  of  my  residence 
at  Oxford.  But  it  may  be  suggested,  that  my  father  was 
unlucky  in  the  choice  of  a  society,  and  the  chance  of  a 
tutor.  It  will  perhaps  be  asserted,  that,  in  the  lapse  of 
forty  years,  many  improvements  have  taken  place  in  the 
college  and  in  the  university.  I  am  not  unwilling  to  be- 
lieve, that  some  tutors  might  have  been  found  more  active 
than  Dr.Waldegrave,  and  less  contemptible  than  Dr.*  *  *  *. 
About  the  same  time,  and  in  the  same  walk,  a  Bentham 


68 


THE  AUTHOR'S  FIRST  ATTEMPT 


was  Still  treading  in  the  footsteps  of  a  Burton,  whose 
maxims  he  had  adopted,  and  whose  hfe  he  had  published. 
The  biographer  indeed  preferred  the  school  logic  to  the 
new  philosophy,  Burgursdicius  to  Locke ;  and  the  hero 
appears,  in  his  own  writings,  a  stiff  and  conceited 
pedant.  Yet  even  these  men,  according  to  the  measure 
of  their  capacity,  might  be  diligent  and  useful ;  and  it  is 
recorded  of  Burton,  that  he  taught  his  pupils  what  he 
knew ;  some  Latin,  some  Greek,  some  ethics  and  meta- 
physics ;  referring  them  to  proper  masters  for  the  lan- 
guages and  sciences  of  which  he  was  ignorant.  At  a 
more  recent  period,  many  students  have  been  attracted 
by  the  merit  and  reputation  of  Sir  William  Scott,  then  a 
tutor  in  University  College,  and  now  con-spicuous  in  *he 
profession  of  the  civil  law ;  my  personal  acquaintance 
with  that  gentleman  has  inspired  me  with  a  just  esteem 
for  his  abilities  and  knowledge ;  and  I  am  assured  that  his 
lectures  on  history  would  compose,  were  they  given  to 
the  public,  a  most  valuable  treatise.  Under  the  auspices 
of  the  present  Archbishop  of  York,  Dr.  Markham,  him- 
self an  eminent  scholar,  a  more  regular  discipline  has 
been  introduced,  as  I  am  told,  at  Christ  Church;*  a 

*  This  was  written  on  the  information  Mr.  Gibbon  had  received,  and  tho 
observation  he  had  made,  previous  to  liis  late  residence  at  Lausanne. 
During  his  last  visit  to  England,  he  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  at  Shef- 
field Place  some  young  men  of  the  college  above  alluded  to ;  he  had  great 
satisfaction  in  conversing  with  ihem,  made  many  enquiries  respecting  their 
course  of  study,  applauded  the  discipline  of  Christ  Church,  and  the  hberal 
attention  shown  by  the  Dean,  to  tht)se  whose  only  recommendation  was 
their  merit.  Had  Mr.  Gibbon  lived  to  revise  tliis  work,  I  am  sure  he  would 
have  mentioned  the  name  of  Dr.  Jackson  with  the  liig'hest  commendation, 
and  also  that  of  Dr.  Bagot,  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  whose  attention  to  tho 


AT  WRITING  HISTORY. 


69 


course  of  classical  and  philosophical  studies  is  proposed, 
and  even  pursued,  in  that  numerous  seminary ;  learning 
has  been  made  a  duty,  a  pleasure,  and  even  a  fashion ; 
and  several  young  gentlemen  do  honour  to  the  college  in 
which  they  have  been  educated.  According  to  the  will 
of  the  donor,  the  profit  of  the  second  part  of  Lord  Cla- 
rendon's History  has  been  applied  to  the  establishment 
of  a  riding-school,  that  the  polite  exercises  might  be 
taught,  I  know  not  with  what  success,  in  the  university. 
The  Vinerian  professorship  is  of  far  more  serious  impor- 

dnties  of  his  ofBce  while  he  was  Dean  of  Christ  Church  College  were  unre- 
mitted.   There  are  other  colleges  at  Oxford,  with  whose  discipline  my 
friend  was  unacquainted,  to  which,  without  doubt,  he  would  willingly 
have  allowed  their  due  praise ,  particularly  Brazen  Nose  and  Oriel  Colleges; 
the  former  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Cleaver,  Bishop  of  Chester,  the  latter 
under  that  of  Dr.  Eveleigh.    It  is  still  greatly  to  be  wished  that  the  general 
expense,  or  rather  extravagance,  of  young  men  at  our  Eughsh  universities, 
may  be  more  effectually  restrained.    The  expense ,  in  which  they  are  per- 
mitted to  indulge,  is  inconsisteat  not  only  with  a  necessary  degree  of  study, 
but  with  those  habits  of  morality  which  should  be  promoted,  by  all  means 
possible,  at  an  early  period  of  life.    An  academical  education  in  England  is 
at  present  an  object  of  alarm  and  terror  to  every  thinking  parent  of  mode- 
rate fortune.    It  is  the  apprehension  of  the  expense,  of  the  dissipation,  and 
other  evil  consequences,  which  arise  from  the  want  of  proper  restraint  at 
our  own  universities,  that  forces  a  number  of  our  English  youths  to  those  of 
Scotland,  and  utterly  excludes  many  from  any  sort  of  academical  instruction. 
If  a  charge  be  true,  which  I  have  heard  insisted  on,  that  the  heads  of  our  col- 
leges in  Oxford  and  Cambridge  are  vain  of  ha\-ing  under  their  care  chiefly 
men  of  opulence,  who  may  be  supposed  exempt  from  the  necessity  of 
economical  control,  they  are  indeed  highly  censurable  :  since  the  mischief 
of  allowing  early  habits  of  expense  and  dissipation  is  great,  in  various 
respects,  even  to  those  possessed  of  large  property ;  and  the  most  serious 
evil  from  this  indulgence  must  happen  to  youths  of  humbler  fortune,  who 
certainly  form  the  majority  of  students  both  at  Oxford  and  Cambridge. — S. 


70     AUTHOR'S  FIRST  ATTEMPT  AT  WRITING  HISTORY, 


tance ;  the  laws  of  his  country  are  the  first  science  of  an 
Englishman  of  rank  and  fortune,  who  is  called  to  be  a 
magistrate,  and  may  hope  to  be  a  legislator.  This  judi- 
cious institution  was  coldly  entertained  by  the  graver 
doctors,  who  complained  (I  have  heard  the  complaint) 
that  it  would  take  the  young  people  from  their  books : 
but  Mr.  Viner's  benefaction  is  not  unprofitable,  since  it 
has  at  least  produced  the  excellent  Commentaries  of  Sir 
"William  Blackstone. 


CHAP.  IX. 


THE  AUTHOR  REMOVES  TO  LAUSANNE. 

After  carrying  me  to  Putney,  to  the  house  of  his 
friend,  Mr.  Mallet,*  by  whose  philosophy  I  was  rathei 
scandalized  than  reclaimed,  it  was  necessary  for  my  fa- 
ther to  form  a  new  plan  of  education,  and  to  devise  some 
method  wliich,  if  possible,  might  effect  the  cure  of  my 
spiritual  malady.  After  much  debate  it  was  determined, 
from  the  advice  and  personal  experience  of  Mr.  Elliot 
(now  Lord  Elliot),  to  fix  me,  during  some  years,  at  Lau- 
sanne, in  Switzerland.  Mr.  Frey,  a  Swiss  gentleman  of 
Basle,  undertook  the  conduct  of  the  journey:  we  left 
London  the  19th  of  June,  crossed  the  sea  from  Dover  to 
Calais,  travelled  post  through  several  provinces  of  France, 
by  the  direct  road  of  St.  Quentin,  Rheims,  Langres,  and 
Besangon,  and  arrived  the  30th  of  June  at  Lausanne, 
where  I  was  immediately  settled  under  the  roof  and 
tuition  of  Mr.  Pavilliai'd,  a  calvinist  minister. 

The  first  marks  of  my  father's  displeasure  rather  asto- 
nished than  afflicted  me :  when  he  threatened  to  banish, 
and  disown,  and  disinherit  a  rebellious  son,  I  cherished  a 
secret  hope  that  he  would  not  be  able  or  willing  to  effect 

*  The  author  of  a  life  of  Bacon,  which  has  been  rated  above  its  value  ;  of 
some  forgotteu  poems  and  plays;  and  of  the  pathetic  ballad  of  Williaia 
and  Margaret.— S. 


72 


THE  AUTHOR  REMOVES  TO  LAUSANNE. 


his  menaces  ;  and  the  pride  of  conscience  encouraged  me 
to  sustain  the  honourable  and  important  part  which  I 
was  now  acting.  My  spirits  were  raised  and  kept  aUve 
by  the  rapid  motion  of  my  journey,  the  new  and  various 
scenes  of  the  Continent,  and  the  civility  of  Mr.  Frey,  a 
man  of  sense,  who  was  not  ignorant  of  books  or  the 
world.  But  after  he  had  resigned  me  into  PavilUard's 
hands,  and  I  was  fixed  in  my  new  habitation,  I  had 
leisure  to  contemplate  the  strange  and  melancholy  pros- 
pect before  me.  My  first  complaint  arose  from  my 
ignorance  of  the  language.  In  my  childhood  I  had  once 
studied  the  French  grammar,  and  I  could  imperfectly 
understand  the  easy  prose  of  a  familiar  subject.  But 
when  I  was  thus  suddenly  cast  on  a  foreign  land,  I  found 
myself  deprived  of  the  use  of  speech  and  of  hearing ; 
and,  during  some  weeks,  incapable  not  only  of  enjoying  the 
pleasures  of  conversation,  but  even  of  asking  or  answer- 
ing a  question  in  the  common  intercourse  of  life.  To  a 
home-bred  Englishman  every  object,  every  custom  was 
offensive ;  but  the  native  of  any  country  might  have  been 
disgusted  with  the  general  aspect  of  his  lodging  and 
entertainment.  I  had  now  exchanged  my  elegant  apart- 
ment in  Magdalen  College  for  a  narrow,  gloomy  street, 
the  most  unfrequented  of  an  unhandsome  town,  for  an 
old  inconvenient  house,  and  for  a  small  chartber  ill-con- 
trived and  ill-furnished,  which,  on  the  approach  of  winter, 
instead  of  a  companionable  fire,  must  be  warmed  by  the 
dull  and  invisible  heat  of  a  stove.  From  a  man  I  was  again 
degraded  to  the  dependence  of  a  school-boy.  Mr.  Pavil- 
liard  managed  my  expenses,  which  had  been  reduced  to 
a  diminjtive  state :  I  received  a  small  monthly  allowance 


THE  AUTHOR  REMOVICS  TO  LAUSANNK. 


73 


for  my  pocket-money ;  and  helpless  and  awkward  as  1 
have  ever  been,  I  no  longer  enjoyed  the  indispensable 
comfort  of  a  servant.  My  condition  seemed  as  destitute  ol 
hope,  as  it  was  devoid  of  pleasure  :  I  was  separated  for  an 
indefinite,  which  appeared  an  infinite,  term  from  my  native 
country ;  and  I  had  lost  all  connexion  with  my  catholic 
friends.  I  have  since  reflected  with  surprise,  that  as  the 
Romish  clergy  of  every  part  of  Europe  maintain  a  close 
correspondence  with  each  other,  they  never  attempted, 
by  letters  or  messages,  to  rescue  me  from  the  hands  of  the 
heretics,  or  at  least  to  confirm  my  zeal  and  constancy  in 
the  profession  of  the  faith.  Such  was  my  first  introduc- 
tion to  Lausanne  ;  a  place  wl^-e  I  spent  nearly  five  years 
with  pleasure  and  profit,  which  I  afterwards  revisited 
without  compulsion,  and  which  I  have  finally  selected 
as  the  most  grateful  retreat  for  the  decline  of  my  life. 

But  it  is  the  peculiar  felicity  of  youth  that  the  most 
unpleasing  objects  and  events  seldom  make  a  deep  or  last- 
ing impression ;  it  forgets  the  past,  enjoys  the  present, 
and  anticipates  the  future.  At  the  flexible  age  ot  sixteen 
I  soon  learned  to  endure,  and  gradually  to  adopt,  the 
new  forms  of  arbitrary  manners  :  the  real  hardships  of  my 
situation  were  alienated  by  time.  Had  I  been  sent  abroad 
in  a  more  splendid  style,  such  as  the  fortune  and 
bounty  of  my  father  might  have  supplied,  I  might  have 
returned  home  with  the  same  stock  of  language  and 
science,  which  our  countrymen  usually  import  from  the 
continent.  An  exile  and  a  prisoner  as  I  was,  their 
example  betrayed  me  into  some  irregularites  of  wine,  of 
play,  and  of  idle  excursions :  but  I  soon  felt  the  impos- 
sibility of  associating  with  them  on  equal  terms ;  and 


74  THE  AUTHOR  REMOVES  TO  LAUSANNE. 


after  the  departure  of  my  first  acquaintance,  I  held  a  cold 
and  civil  correspondence  w^ith  their  successors.  This 
seclusion  from  English  society  was  attended  with  the 
most  solid  •  benefits.  *  In  the  Pays  de  Vaud,  the  French 
language  is  used  with  less  imperfection  than  in  most  of 
the  distant  provinces  of  France  :  in  Pavilliard's  family, 
necessity  compelled  me  to  listen  and  to  speak ;  and  if  I 
was  at  first  disheartened  by  the  apparent  slowness,  in  a 
few  months  I  was  astonished  by  the  rapidity  of  my  pro- 
gress. My  pronunciation  was  formed  by  the  constant 
repetition  of  the  same  sounds  ;  the  variety  of  words  and 
idioms,  the  rules  of  grammar,  and  distinctions  of  genders, 
were  impressed  in  my  meij|^ory :  ease  and  freedom  were 
obtained  by  practice ;  correctness  and  elegance  by  la- 
bour ;  and  before  I  was  recalled  home,  French,  in  which 
I  spontaneously  thought,  was  more  familiar  than  English 
to  my  ear,  my  tongue,  and  my  pen.  The  first  effect  of 
this  opening  knowledge  was  the  revival  of  my  love  of 
reading,  which  had  been  chilled  at  Oxford ;  and  I  soon 
turned  over,  without  much  choice,  almost  all  the  French 
books  in  my  tutor's  library.  Even  these  amusements 
were  productive  of  real  advantage  :  my  taste  and  judg- 
ment were  now  somewhat  riper,  1  was  introduced  to  a 
new  mode  of  style  and  literature :  by  the  comparison  of 
manners  and  opinions,  my  views  were  enlarged,  my 
prejudices  were  corrected,  and  a  copious  voluntary  ab- 
stract of  the  Histoire  de  I'Eglise  et  de  I'Empire,  by  Le 
Sueur,  may  be  placed  in  a  middle  line  between  my 
childish  and  my  manly  studies.  As  soon  as  I  was  able 
to  converse  with  the  natives,  I  began  to  feel  some  satis- 
faction in  thair  company :  my  awkward  timidity  was 


THE  AUTHOR  REMOVES  TO  LAUSANNE. 


75 


polished  and  emboldened ;  and  I  frequented,  for  the  first 
time,  assemblies  of  men  and  women.  The  acquaintance 
of  the  Pavilliards  prepared  me  by  degrees  for  more  ele- 
gant society.  I  was  received  with  kindness  and  indul- 
gence in  the  best  families  of  Lausanne  ;  and  it  was  in 
one  of  these  that  I  formed  an  intimate  and  lasting  con- 
nexion with  Mr.  Deyverdun,  a  young  man  of  an  amiable 
temper  and  excellent  understanding.  In  the  arts  of  fen- 
cing and  dancing,  small  indeed  was  my  proficiency ;  and 
some  months  were  idly  wasted  in  the  riding-school.  My 
1  unfitness  to  bodily  exercise  reconciled  me  to  a  sedentary 
life,  and  the  horse,  the  favourite  of  my  countrymen, 
never  contributed  to  the  pleasures  of  my  youth. 

My  obligations  to  the  lessons  of  Mr.  Pavilliard,  grati- 
tude will  not  suffer  me  to  forget :  he  was  endowed  with 
a  clear  head  and  a  warm  heart ;  his  innate  benevolence 
had  assuaged  the  spirit  of  the  Church ;  he  was  rational, 
because  he  was  moderate  :  in  the  course  of  his  studies 
he  had  acquired  a  just  though  superficial  knowledge  of 
most  branches  of  literature ;  by  long  practice,  he  was 
skilled  in  the  arts  of  teaching ;  and  he  laboured  with 
assiduous  patience  to  know  the  character,  gain  the 
affection,  and  open  the  mind  of  his  English  pupil.*  As 

*  Translated  Exiracl  of  a  Letter  from  Mr.  Pavilliard  to  Edward  Gibbon,  Esq. 

"  Lausanne,  July  25,  1753. 

"  Mr.  Gibbon  is,  thank  God,  very  well ;  and  appears  to  me  to  be  very 
comfortable  at  our  house  ;  I  have  even  reason  to  think  that  he  feels  some 
attachment  to  myself,  of  which  I  am  very  glad,  and  which  I  shall  strenu- 
ously endeavour  to  increase  ;  because  then  he  will  have  more  confidence 
in  me,  and  in  what  I  intend  to  say  to  him. 

"  I  have  not  yet  ventured  to  speak  to  him  upon  religious  topics,  for  I  am 
not  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  English  language  to  support  a  long 


76  THE  AUTHOR  REMOVES  TO  LAUSANNE. 


soon  as  we  began  to  understand  eacli  other,  he  gently 
led  me,  from  a  blind  and  undistinguished  love  of  reading, 
into  the  path  of  instruction.  I  consented  with  pleasure 
that  a  portion  of  the  morning  hours  should  be  consecrated 
to  a  plan  of  modern  history  and  geography,  and  to  the 
critical  perusal  of  the  French  and  Latin  classics ;  and  at 
each  step  I  felt  myself  invigorated  by  the  habits  of 
application  and  method.  His  prudence  repressed  and 
dissembled  some  youthful  sallies ;  and  as  soon  as  I  was 
confirmed  in  the  habits  of  industry  and  temperance,  he 
gave  the  reins  into  my  own  hands.  His  favourable  re- 
port of  my  behaviour  and  progress  gradually  obtained 
some  latitude  of  action  and  expense ;  and  he  wished  to 
alleviate  the  hardships  of  my  lodging  and  entertainment. 
The  principles  of  philosophy  were  associated  with  the 
examples  of  taste ;  and  by  a  singular  chance,  the  book, 

conversation  in  it,  though  I  can  read  EngUsh  authors  with  considerable 
facilitiy  ;  and  Mr.  Gibbon  does  not  understand  enough  French,  though  he 
is  making  rapid  progress  in  it. 

"  I  am  much  pleased  with  the  politeness  and  suavity  of  your  son's  dis- 
position,  and  I  flatter  myself  I  shall  always  be  able  to  speak  favourably  of 
him  to  you.    He  applies  closely  to  reading." 

From  the  Same  to  the  Same. 

Lausanne,  August,  13,  1753. 
"  Mr.  Gibbon  is,  thank  God,  in  good  health  ;  I  feel  an  affection  for  him, 
and  am  exceedingly  attached  to  him,  because  he  is  mild  and  quiet.  Re- 
specting his  religious  sentiments,  though  I  have  not  yet  said  anything  to 
him  on  the  subject,  I  have  reason  to  hope  he  will  open  his  eyes  to  the 
truth.  I  think  so,  because,  when  he  was  in  my  study,  he  made  choice  of 
two  controversial  books,  and  took  them  to  peruse  in  his  chamber.  He  has 
enjoined  me  to  present  you  his  most  humble  respects,  and  to  ask  you  to 
allow  him  to  learn  riding ;  which  exercise  will,  he  thinks,  contribute  to  his 
bodily  health." 


THL  AUTHOR  REMOVES  TO  LAUSANNE. 


77 


as  well  as  the  man,  which  contributed  the  most  effec- 
tually to  my  education,  has  a  stronger  claim  on  my 
gratitude  than  on  my  admiration.  Mr.  De  Crousaz,  the 
adversary  of  Bayle  and  Pope,  is  not  distinguished  by 
lively  fancy  or  profound  reflection ;  and  even  in  his  own 
country,  at  the  end  of  a  few  years,  his  name  and  writings 
are  almost  obliterated.  But  his  philosophy  had  been 
formed  in  the  school  of  Locke,  his  divinity  in  that  of 
Limborch  and  Le  Clerc ;  in  a  long  and  laborious  life, 
several  generations  of  pupils  were  taught  to  think,  and 
even  to  write  ;  his  lessons  rescued  the  academy  of  Lau- 
sanne from  Calvinistic  prejudice ;  and  he  had  the  rare 
merit  of  diffusing  a  more  liberal  spirit  among  the  clergy 
and  people  of  the  Pays  de  Vaud.  His  system  of  logic, 
which  in  the  last  editions  has  swelled  to  six  tedious  and 
prolix  volumes,  may  be  praised  as  a  clear  and  methodical 
abridgment  of  the  art  of  reasoning,  from  our  simple  ideas 
to  the  most  complex  operations  of  the  human  understand- 
ing. This  system  I  studied,  and  meditated,  and  ab- 
stracted, till  I  have  obtained  the  free  command  of  an  uni- 
versal instrument,  which  I  soon  presumed  to  exercise  on 
my  catholic  opinions.  Pavilliard  was  not  unmindful  that 
his  first  task,  his  most  important  duty,  was  to  reclaim  me 
from  the  errors  of  popery.  The  intermixture  of  sects 
has  rendered  the  swiss  clergy  acute  and  learned  on  the 
topics  of  controversy ;  and  I  have  some  of  his  letters  in 
which  he  celebrates  the  dexterity  of  his  attack,  and  my 
gradual  concessions,  after  a  firm  and  well-managed  de- 
fence.*   I  was  willing,  and  I  am  now  willing,  to  allow 

*  Mr.  Pavilliard  has  described  to  me  the  astonishment  with  which  ha 
gazed  on  Mr.  Gibbon  standing  before  him  :  a  thin  little  figure,  with  a  large 


78 


THE  AUTHOR  REMOVES  TO  LAUSANNE. 


him  a  handsome  share  of  the  honour  of  rny  conversion : 
yet  I  must  observe,  that  it  was  priccipally  effected  by  my 
private  reflections  ;  and  I  still  remember  my  sohtary 
transport  at  the  discovery  of  philosophical  argument 
against  the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation ;  that  the  text 
of  scripture  which  seems  to  inculcate  the  real  presence, 
is  attested  only  by  a  single  sense — our  sight ;  while  the 
real  presence  itself  is  disproved  by  three  of  our  senses 
— the  sight,  the  touch  and  the  taste.  The  various 
articles  of  the  Romish  creed  disappeared  like  a  dream ;  and 
after  a  full  conviction,  on  Christmas-day,  1754, 1  received 
the  sacrament  in  the  church  of  Lausanne.  It  was  here 
that  I  suspended  my  religious  inquiries,  acquiescing  with 
implicit  belief  in  the  tenets  and  mysteries,  which  are 
adopted  by  the  gejrferal  consent  of  Catholics  and  Pro- 
te-stants.* 

head,  disputing  and  urging,  with  the  greatest  ability,  all  the  best  arguments 
that  had  ever  been  need  in  favour  of  popery.  Mr.  Gibbon  many  years  ago 
became  very  fat  and  corpulent,  but  he  had  uncommonly  email  bones,  and 
was  very  slightly  made. — S. 

*  Letter  from  Mr.  Pavilliard  to  Edward  Gibbon,  Esq. 

"  June  26th,  1754. 

"  Sir, 

"  I  hope  you  will  pardon  my  long  silence,  on  account  of  the  news  which 
I  now  have  to  communicate  to  you.  My  delay  has  been  owing  neither  to 
forgetfulness  nor  to  negligence,  but  I  have,  irom  week  to  week,  been  ex- 
pecting to  be  able  to  announce  to  you  that  your  son  had  entirely  renounced 
the  false  ideas  that  he  had  embraced  ;  but  it  was  necessary  to  dispute 
every  inch  of  ground  ;  and  I  have  not  found  in  him  a  man  of  fickle  disposi- 
tion,  or  one  who  passes  rapidly  from  one  opinion  to  another.  Ol'ten  when  I 
had  confuted  all  his  reasonings  upon  any  particular  pc/iut,  in  such  a  mimner 
as  to  leave  him  nothing  to  reply  (which  he  has  frankly  acknowledged),  ho 
has  told  me  that  he  diil  not  btlieve  there  wasuo  answer  tliat  might  be  mado 


THE  AUTHOR  REMOVES  TO  LAUSANNE, 


79 


to  me.  Whereupon  I  did  not  deem  it  right  to  push  it  too  far,  and  to  extort 
an  acknowledgment  from  him  that  his  heart  would  disavow ;  I  therefore 
gave  him  time  for  reflection  ;  all  my  books  were  at  his  service  ;  I  returned 
to  the  charge  when  he  had  informed  me  that  he  had  studied  the 
matter  as  well  as  he  possibly  could  ;  and  thus  at  last  I  established  a 
truth, 

"  I  felt  persuaded  that,  when  I  had  overthrown  the  principal  errors  of 
the  Romish  church,  I  should  only  have  to  show  him  that  the  remainder 
are  consequences  from  these,  and  that  thay  are  no  longer  tenable  when 
the  fundamental  doctrines  are  overturned  ;  but,  a?  I  have  already  said,  I 
was  deceived  in  this,  and  it  was  necessary  to  treat  of  each  tenet  in  all  its 
extent.  By  the  grace  of  God,  my  time  has  not  been  lost,  and  now,  if  he 
may,  perhaps,  still  retain  some  remains  of  his  pernicious  errors,  yet  he  is 
no  longer  a  member  of  the  Romish  church.    Tliis,  then,  is  how  we  stand. 

"  I  have  overtlirown  the  infalliiiility  of  the  church  ;  I  have  proved  that 
St  Peter  was  never  the  prince  of  the  apostles,  and  that,  even  if  he  was,  the 
Pope  is  not  his  successor ;  that  it  is  doubtful  whether  St.  Peter  ever  was  at 
Rome,  and,  supposing  that  he  was,  he  never  was  bishop  of  that  city ;  that 
transubstantiation  is  a  human  invention,  and  of  recent  introduction  into  the 
church ;  that  the  adoration  of  the  host  and  the  denial  of  the  cup  are  con- 
trary to  the  word  of  God  ;  that  there  are  saints  but  we  know  not  who  ihey 
are,  and  therefore  we  cannot  pray  to  them;  thjit  the  respect  and  worship 
paid  to  relics  is  improper ;  that  there  is  no  purg>.tory,  and  that  the  doctrine  of 
indulgences  is  erroneous  ;  that  Lent  and  the  Friday  and  Saturday  fasts  are 
ridiculous  at  the  present  day,  and  in  the  manner  in  which  they  are  pre- 
scribed by  the  Romish  church ;  and  that  the  charges  brought  against  us 
of  diversity  in  our  doctrine,  and  of  having  for  reformers  only  persons  of 
scandalous  conduct  and  immoral  life,  are  entirely  false. 

"  You  will  easily  perceive,  sir,  that  these  subjects  require  a  long  discus- 
sion, and  that  some  time  was  necessary  for  your  son  to  think  over  my  argu- 
ments and  10  seek  for  answers.  I  have  asked  him  several  tim«3  whether 
my  arguments  and  proofs  appeared  to  him  to  be  convincing  ;  and  he  haa 
always  assured  me  that  they  were  in  such  a  manner  that,  as  I  told  him 
himself  a  little  while  ago,  I  dare  myself  aver  that  he  is  no  longer  a  Roman 
Catholic.  I  flatter  myself  that,  after  having  obtained  the  victory  on  these 
points,  I  shall,  with  the  help  of  God,  be  sure  of  him  on  the  rest:  so  that  I 
expect  to  tell  you  in  a  little  time  that  the  work  is  accomplished.  I  ought, 
however,  to  inform  you  that,  though  I  have  found  your  son  very  firm  in  his 


80  THE  AUTHOR  REMOVES  TO  LAUSANNE. 


opinions,  yet  I  have  found  kim  reasonable  and  open  to  conviction,  and  not 
•what  is  called  a  quibbler.  With  respect  to  the  subject  of  the  Friday  and 
Saturday  fasts ;  a  long  time  after  I  wrote  you  word  that  he  had  not  men- 
tioned that  he  wished  to  observe  it,  about  the  beginning  of  March,  I  ob- 
served one  Friday  that  he  did  not  eat  any  meat;  I  spoke  to  him  privately 
to  know  the  reason  of  it,  fearing  it  might  be  through  indisposition.  He 
answered  that  he  had  done  it  purposely,  and  that  he  thought  it  incumbent 
upon  him  to  conform  to  a  practice  of  the  church  of  which  he  was  a  mem- 
ber. We  conversed  some  time  upon  the  subject ;  he  told  me  that  he 
merely  looked  upon  it  as  a  good  custom  indeed,  and  worthy  of  observance, 
though  not  holy  in  itself  nor  of  divine  institution.  I  did  not  think  proper  to 
insist  upon  it  at  that  time,  or  to  force  him  to  act  against  his  conscience  ;  I  have 
since  treated  upon  this  point,  which  is  certainly  one  of  the  least  important  and 
fundamental ;  and  yet  I  have  found  a  considerable  time  necessary  to  unde- 
ceive him,  and  to  make  him  understand  that  he  was  wrong  to  subject  him- 
self to  the  practice  of  a  church  that  he  did  not  account  to  be  infallible  ;  that 
even  if  this  custom  had  some  utilily  at  its  institution,  yet  now  it  had  none  of 
any  sort,  since  it  did  not  in  any  way  contribute  to  purity  of  morals ;  that 
thus  there  was  no  reason  either  in  the  institution  of  the  practice  or  in  tho 
practice  itself,  that  made  it  incumbent  on  him  to  observe  it ;  that  at  the 
present  time  it  was  merely  a  matter  of  interest,  since  dispensations  were 
to  be  bought  with  money  for  eatJng  flesh,  &c.  ;  so  that  I  have  brought  him 
back  to  christian  liberty  with  great  difficulty  and  only  within  a  few  weeks 
since. 

"  I  have  requested  him  to  write  to  you,  to  apprize  you  of  his  Eentiments 
and  of  liia  state  of  health  ;  and  I  believe  he  has  done  so." 


CHAP.  X. 

AUTHOR'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  BOOKS  HE  READ. 

Such,  from  my  arrival  at  Lausanne,  during  the  first 
eighteen  or  twenty  months  (July,  1753 — March,  1755,) 
were  my  useful  studies,  the  foundation  of  all  my  future 
improvements.  But  every  man  who  rises  above  the  com- 
mon level  has  received  two  educations :  the  first  from  his 
teachers;  the  second,  m'ore  personal  and  more  important, 
from  himself.  He  will  not,  like  the  fanatics  of  the  last 
age,  define  the  moment  of  grace ;  but  he  cannot  forget 
the  sera  of  his  life,  in  which  his  mind  has  expanded  to  its 
proper  form  and  dimensions.  My  worthy  tutor  had  the 
good  sense  and  modesty  to  discern  how  far  he  could  be 
useful:  as  soon  as  he  felt  that  I  advanced  beyond  his 
speed  and  measure,  he  wisely  left  me  to  my  genius ;  and 
the  hours  of  lesson  were  soon  lost  in  the  voluntary  labour 
of  the  whole  morning,  and  sometimes  of  the  whole  day. 
The  desire  of  prolonging  my  time,  gradually  confirmed 
the  salutary  habit  of  early  rising;  to  which  I  have  always 
adhered,  with  some  regard  to  seasons  and  situations :  but 
it  is  happy  for  my  eyes  and  my  health,  that  my  temperate 
ardour  has  never  been  seduced  to  trespass  on  the  hours 
of  the  night.  During  the  last  three  years  of  my  residence 
in  Lausanne,  I  may  assume  the  merit  of  serious  and  solid 
application ;  but  I  am  tempted  to  distinguish  the  last  eight 


82         AUTHOR'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  BOOKS  HE  READ. 

months  of  the  year  1755,  as  the  period  of  the  most  extra- 
ordinary diligence  and  rapid  progress.*  In  my  French 
and  Latin  translations  I  adopted  an  excellent  method, 
which,  from  my  own  success,  I  would  recommend  to  the 
imitation  of  students,  I  chose  some  classic  writer,  such 
as  Cicero  and  Vertot,  the  most  approved  for  purity  and 
elegance  of  style.  I  translated,  for  instance,  an  epistle  of 
Cicero  into  French ;  and  after  throwing  it  aside,  till  the 
words  and  phrases  were  obliterated  from  my  memory,  I 
re-translated  my  French  into  such  Latin  as  I  could  find ; 
and  then  compared  each  sentence  of  my  imperfect  ver- 
sion, with  the  ease,  the  grace,  the  propriety  of  the  Roman 
orator.  A  similar  experiment  was  made  on  several 
pages  of  the  Revolutions  of  Vertot ;  I  turned  them  into 
Latin,  re-turned  them  after  a  sufficient  interval  into  my 
own  French,  and  again  scrutinized  the  resemblance  or 
dissimilitude  of  the  copy  and  the  original.  By  degrees  I 
was  less  ashamed,  by  degrees  I  was  more  satisfied  with 

*  Journal,  December,  1755.] — In  finishing  this  year,  I  must  remark 
how  favourable  it  was  to  my  studies.  In  the  space  of  eight  months,  from 
the  beginning  of  April,  I  learned  the  principles  of  drawing ;  made  myself 
complete  master  of  the  French  and  Latin  languages,  with  which  I  was  very 
superficially  acquainted  before,  and  wrote  and  translated  a  great  deal  in 
both ;  read  Cicero's  Epistles  ad  Familiares,  his  Brutus,  all  his  Orations,  his 
Dialogues  de  Amicitia  and  de  Senectute  ;  Terence,  twice ;  and  Pliny's 
Epistles.  In  French,  Giannone's  History  of  Naples,  and  the  Abbe  Banier's 
Mythology,  and  M.  de  Boehat's  M^moires  sur  la  Suisse,  and  wrote  a  very 
ample  relation  of  my  tour.  I  likewise  began  to  study  Greek,  and  went 
through  the  grammar.  I  began  to  make  very  large  collections  of  what  I 
read.  Bat  what  I  esteem  most  of  all,  from  the  perusal  and  meditation  of  Do 
Crousaz'a  Logic,  I  not  only  undei-stood  the  principles  of  that  science,  but 
formed  my  miud  to  a  habit  of  thinking  and  reasoning  I  had  no  idea  of 
before. 


AUTHOR'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  BOOKS  HE  READ.  83 


myself :  and  I  persevered  in  the  practice  of  these  double 
translations,  which  filled  several  books,  till  I  had  acquired 
the  knowledge  of  both  idioms,  and  the  command  at  least 
of  a  correct  syle.  This  useful  exercise  of  writing  was 
accompanied  and  succeeded  by  the  more  pleasing  occu- 
pation of  reading  the  best  authors.  The  perusal  of  the 
Roman  classics  was  at  once  my  exercise  and  reward. 
Dr.  Middleton's  History,  which  I  then  appreciated  above 
its  true  value,  naturally  directed  me  to  the  writings  of 
Cicero.  The  most  perfect  editions,  that  of  Olivet,  which 
may  adorn  the  shelves  of  the  rich,  that  of  Ernesti,  which 
should  lie  on  the  table  of  the  learned,  vaere  not  in  my 
power.  For  the  Familiar  Epistles  I  used  the  text  and 
English  Commentary  of  Bishop  Ross :  but  my  general 
edition  was  that  of  Verburgius,  published  at  Amsterdam, 
in  two  large  volumes  in  folio,  with  an  indifferent  choice  of 
various  notes.  I  read,  with  application  and  pleasure,  all 
the  epistles,  all  the  orations,  and  the  most  important  trea- 
tises of  rhetoric  and  philosophy ;  and  as  I  read,  I  ap- 
plauded the  observation  of  Quintilian,  that  every  student 
may  judge  of  his  own  proficiency,  by  the  satisfaction 
which  he  receives  from  the  Roman  orator.  I  tasted  the 
beauties  of  language,  I  breathed  the  spirit  of  freedom,  and 
I  imbibed  from  his  precepts  and  examples  the  public  and 
private  sense  of  a  man.  Cicero  in  Latin,  and  Xenophon 
in  Greek,  are  indeed  the  two  ancients  whom  I  would  first 
propose  to  a  liberal  scholar :  not  only  for  the  merit  of 
their  style  and  sentiments,  but  for  the  admirable  lessons, 
which  may  be  applied  almost  to  every  situation  of  public 
and  private  life.  Cicero's  Epistles  may  in  particular  af- 
ford the  models  of  every  form  of  correspondence,  from 


84 


AUTHOR'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  BOOKS  HE  READ. 


the  careless  effusions  of  tenderness  and  friendship,  to  the 
well-guarded  declaration  of  discreet  and  dignified  resent- 
ment. After  finishing  this  great  author,  a  library  of  elo- 
quence and  reason,  I  formed  a  more  extensive  plan  of 
reviewing  the  Latin  classics,*  under  the  four  divisions  of» 
1.  Historians,  2.  Poets,  3.  Orators,  and  4.  Philosophers, 
in  a  chronological  series,  from  the  days  of  Plautus  and 
Sallust,  to  the  decline  of  the  language  and  empire  of 
Rome ;  and  this  plan,  in  the  last  twenty-seven  months  of 
my  residence  at  Lausanne  (January,  1756 — April,  1758), 
I  nearly  accomplished.  Nor  was  this  ]-eview,  however 
rapid,  either  hasty  or  superficial.  I  indulged  myself  in  a 
second,  and  even  a  third  perusal  of  Terence,  Virgil, 
Horace,  Tacitus,  &c.,  and  studied  to  imbibe  the  sense  and 
spirit  most  congenial  to  my  own.  I  never  suffered  a  dif- 
ficult or  corrupt  passage  to  escape,  till  I  had  viewed  it  in 
every  light  of  which  it  was  susceptible  :  though  often  dis- 
appointed, I  always  consulted  the  most  learned  or  inge- 
nious commentators,  Torrentius  and  Dacier  on  Horace, 
Catrou  and  Servius  on  Virgil,  Lipsius  on  Tacitus,  Meze- 
riac  on  Ovid,  &c. ;  and  in  the  ardour  of  my  inquiries,  I 
embraced  a  large  circle  of  historical  and  critical  erudi- 
tion. My  abstracts  of  each  book  were  made  in  the 
French  language ;  my  observations  often  branched  into 
particular  essays  ;  and  I  can  still  read,  without  contempt, 
a  dissertation  of  eight  folio  pages  on  eight  lines  (287 — 

■  *  Journal,  January,  1756.] — I  determined  to  read  over  the  Latin 
authors  in  order ;  and  read  this  year,  Virgil,  Sallust,  LivT^,  Velleius  Paler- 
culuB,  Valerius  Maxlinus,  Tacitus,  Suetonius,  Quintus  Curtius,  Justin, 
Floras,  Plautos,  Terence,  and  Lucretius.  I  also  read  and  meditated  Locke 
upon  the  Underatanding. 


AUTHOR'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  BOOKS  HE  READ.  85 


294)  of  the  fourth  Georgic  of  Virgil.  Mr.  Deyverdun, 
my  friend,  whose  name  will  be  frequently  repeated,  had 
joined  with  equal  zeal,  though  not  with  equal  perse- 
verance, in  the  same  undertaking.  To  him  every  thought, 
every  composition,  was  instantly  communicated ;  with 
him  I  enjoyed  the  benefits  of  a  free  conversation  on  the 
topics  of  our  common  studies. 

But  it  is  scarcely  possible  for  a  mind  endowed  with 
any  active  curiosity  to  be  long  conversant  with  the  Latin 
classics,  without  aspiring  to  know  the  Greek  originals, 
whom  they  celebrate  as  their  masters,  and  of  whom  they 
so  warmly  recommend  the  study  and  iinitation ; 

 Vos  exemplaria  Graca  A 

Nocturaa  versate  manu,  versate  diurna. 

It  was  now  that  I  regre'tted  the  early  years  which  had 
been  wasted  in  sickness  or  idleness,  or  mere  idle  reading ; 
that  I  condemned  the  perverse  method  of  our  school- 
masters, who,  by  first  teaching  the  mother-language, 
might  descend  with  so  much  ease  and  perspecuity  to  the 
origin  and  etymology  of  a  derivative  idiom.  In  the 
nineteenth  year  of  my  age  I  determined  to  supply  this 
defect ;  and  the  lessons  of  Pavilliard  again  contributed  to 
smooth  the  entrance  of  the  way,  the  Greek  alphabet,  the 
grammar,  and  the  pronunciation  according  to  the  French 
accent.  At  my  earnest  request  we  presumed  to  open  the 
Iliad ;  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  beholding,  though  darkly 
and  through  a  glass,  the  true  image  of  Homer,  whom  I 
had  long  since  admired  in  an  English  dress.  After  my 
tutor  had  left  me  to  myself,  1  worked  my  way  through 
about  half  the  Iliad,  and  afterwards  interpreted  alone  a 


86        AUTHOR'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  BOOKS  HE  READ. 


large  portion  of  Xenophon  and  Herodotus.  But  my 
ardour,  destitute  of  aid  and  emulation,  was  gradually- 
cooled,  and,  from  the  barren  task  of  searching  words  in  a 
lexicon,  I  withdrew  to  the  free  and  famiUar  conversation 
of  Virgil  and  Tacitus.  Yet  in  my  residence  at  Lausanne 
I  had  laid  a  solid  foundation,  which  enabled  me,  in  a 
more  propitious  season,  to  prosecute  the  study  of  Grecian 
literature. 

From  a  blind  idea  of  the  usefulness  of  such  abstract 
science,  my  father  had  been  desirous,  and  even  pressing, 
that  I  should  devote  some  lime  to  the  mathematics  ;*  nor 

Extract  of  a  letter  from  Mr.  Pavilliard  to  Edward  Gibbon,  Esq. 

#  "January  12,  1757. 

"  Sir, 

"You  wished  that  your  eon  should  apply  himself  to  Algebra;  his  taste 
for  literature  made  him  fearful  lest  it  should  injure  his  favourite  studies ;  I 
have  persuaded  him  that  he  formed  a  wrong  idea  of  that  province  of  Ma- 
thematics ;  and  the  obedience  he  owes  you,  added  to  my  arguments,  has 
determined  him  to  go  through  a  course  of  it.  I  did  not  think  that,  with  this 
repugnance,  he  would  have  made  any  great  progress  in  it ;  I  was  deceived ; 
all  that  he  does,  he  does  well ;  he  is  punctual  at  his  lessons,  applies  himself 
to  reading  before  them,  and  goes  over  them  again  carefully,  so  that  he  ad- 
vances rapidly,  and  more  than  I  should,  myself,  have  expected.  He  is  de- 
lighted at  having  begun,  and  I  think  he  will  go  through  a  short  course  of 
geometry,  which  will  not  altogether  occupy  him  above  seven  or  eight 
months.  While  he  is  proceeding  with  these  lessons,  he  has  not  at  all  re- 
mitted his  other  studies;  he  has  made  great  progress  in  the  Greek,  and  haa 
read  almost  half  the  Iliad  of  Homer ;  I  give  him  lessons  regularly  in  that 
author.  He  has  also  finished  the  Latin  historians,  and  is  at  present  engaged 
upon  the  poets;  he  has  read  the  whole  of  Plautus  and  Terence,  and  will 
Boon  have  finished  Lucretius.  Moreover,  he  does  not  skim  these  authors 
over  lightly,  but  wishes  to  make  himself  clear  upon  every  thing  ;  so  that 
with  the  genius  he  possesses,  and  his  excellent  memory  and  application,  he 
will  go  deep  into  the  sciences. 

"  I  have  already  had  the  honour  to  infonn  you  that,  notwithstanding  hia 


AUTHOR'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  BOOKS  HE  READ. 


87 


could  I  refuse  to  comply  with  so  reasonable  a  wish. 
During  two  winters  I  attended  the  private  lectures  of 
Monsieur  de  Traytorrens,  who  explained  the  elements  of 
algebra  and  geometry,  as  far  as  the  cojarfic  sections  of  the  01^ 
Marquis  de  I'Hopital,  and  appeared  satisfied  with  my 
diligence  and  improvement.*    But  as  my  childish  pro- 

Btudies,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  seeing  company,  and  I  may  at  the  present 
time  repeat  what  I  then  said." 

From  the  Same  to  the  Same. 

"  January,  14,  1758. 

"  Sir, 

"  I  had  the  honour  of  writing  to  you  on  the  27th  of  July  and  the  26th  of 
October  last,  and  of  giving  you  an  account  of  tho  health,  the  studies,  and 
conduct  of  your  son.  I  have  nothing  to  add  to  what  I  have  already  said  to 
you  about  him;  he  is,  thank  God,  perfectly  well,  aud  continues  to  study  with 
close  application ;  and  I  can  assure  you  he  makes  considerable  progress  in 
different  branches,  makes  himself  highly  esteemed  by  all  who  are  acquiuted 
with  him,  and  I  hope  that,  when  he  shows  you  in  detail  the  extent  of  his 
acquirements,  you  will  be  very  much  pleased  with  him.  Literature,  which 
is  his  favourite  study,  does  not  oocupy  him  entirely  ;  he  is  proceeding  with 
the  mathematics,  and  his  professor  assures  me  that  he  never  saw  any  one 
make  so  rapid  a  progress  as  he  does,  or  have  more  ardour  or  application 
than  he  possesses.  His  happy  and  penetrating  genius  is  assisted  by  one  of 
the  best  of  memories,  so  that  he  scarcely  ever  forgets  anything  he  learns. 
I  have  not  myself  any  less  reason  than  before  to  be  pleased  with  his  conduct; 
though  he  studies  a  great  deal,  yet  he  sees  company,  but  only  those  per- 
sons whose  intercourse  may  be  profitable  to  him." 

•JooRNAL,  January,  1757.] — I  began  to  study  algebra  under  M.  de 
Traytorrens,  went  through  the  elements  of  algebra  and  geometry,  and  tho 
three  first  books  of  the  Marquis  de  THopital's  Coniic  Sections.  I  also  read  y*^ 
TibuUus,  Catullus,  Propertius,  Horace  (with  Dacier's  aud  Torrentius's 
notes),  Virgil,  Ovid's  Epistles  and  Mezeriac's  Commentary,  the  Ars 
Amandi,  and  the  Elegies;  likewise  the  Augustus  and  Tiberius  of  Sueto- 
nius, and  a  Latin  translation  of  Dion  Cassius,  from  the  death  of  Julius 


88         AUTHOR'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  BOOKS  HE  READ. 


pensity  for  numbers  and  calculations  was  totally  extinct, 
I  was  content  to  receive  the  passive  impression  of  my 
professor's  lectures,  without  any  active  exercise  of  my 
own  powers.  As  soon  as  1  understood  the  principle,  I 
relinquished  for  ever  the  pursuit  of  the  mathematics  ;  nor 
can  I  lament  that  I  desisted,  before  my  mind  was  hard- 
l  ened  by  the  habit  of  rigid  demonstration,  so  destructive 
of  the  finer  feelings  of  moral  evidence,  which  must,  how- 
ever, determine  the  actions  and  opinions  of  our  lives.  I 
listened  with  more  pleasure  to  the  proposal  of  studying 
the  Law  of  Nature  and  Nations,  which  was  taught  in  the 
Academy  of  Lausanne  by  Mr.  Vicat,  a  professor  of  some 
learning  and  reputation.  But,  instead  of  attending  his 
public  or  private  course,  I  preferred  in  my  closet  the 
lessons  of  his  masters,  and  my  own  reason.  Without 
being  disgusted  by  Grotius  or  PufFendorf,  I  studied  in 
their  writings  the  duties  of  a  man,  the  rights  of  a  citizen, 
the  theory  of  justice  (it  is,  alas  !  a  theory),  and  the  laws 
of  peace  and  war,  which  have  had  some  influence  on  the 
practice  of  modern  Europe.  Aly  fatigues  were  alleviated 
by  the  good  sense  of  their  commentator  Barbeyrac 
Locke's  Treatise  of  Government  instructed  me  in  the 
knowledge  of  Whig  principles,  which  are  rather  founded 
in  reason  than  experience  ;  but  my  delight  was  in  the 
frequent  perusal  of  Montesquieu,  whose  energy  of  style 

Caesar  to  the  death  of  Augustas.  I  also  continued  my  correspondence 
begun  last  year  with  Mr.  AUemand  of  Bex,  and  the  Professor  Breitinger  of 
Zurich ;  and  opened  a  new  one  with  the  Professor  Gesner  of  Gottingen. 

N.  B.  Last  year  and  this  I  read  St.  John's  Gospel,  with  part  of  Xeno- 
phon's  Cyropai'dia  ;  the  I  had  and  Herodotus :  but,  upon  the  whole,  I  rather 
neglected  my  Greek. 


AUTHOR'S  ACCOUiNT  OF  THE  BOOKS  HE  READ. 


89 


and  boldness  of  hypothesis  were  powerful  to  awaken  and 
stimulate  the  genius  of  the  age.     The  logic   of  De 
Crousaz  had  prepared  me  to  engage  with  his  master 
Locke,  and  his  antagonist  Bayle ;  of  whom  the  former 
may  be  used  as  a  bridle,  and  the  latter  applied  as  a  spur, 
to  the  curiosity  of  a  young  philosopher.    According  to 
the  nature  of  their  respective  works,  the  schools  of  argu- 
ment and  objection,  I  carefully  went  through  the  Essay 
on  Human  Understanding,  and  occasionally  consulted  the 
most  interesting  articles  of  the  Philosophic  Dictionary. 
In  the  infancy  of  my  reason  I  turned  over,  as  an  idle 
amusement,  the  most  serious  and  important  treatise  :  in 
its  maturity,  the  most  trifling  performance  could  exercise 
my  tastes  or  judgment ;  and  more  than  once  I  have  been 
led  by  a  novel  into  a  deep  and  instructive  traint  of  think- 
ing.   But  I  cannot  forbear  to  mention  three  particular 
books,  since  they  have  remotely  contributed  to  foi'm  the 
historian  of  the  Roman  Empire.    1 .  From  the  Provincial 
Letters  of  Pascal,  which  almost  every  year  I  have  perused  ^ 
with  new  pleasure,  I  learned  to  manage  the  weapon  ot  / 
grave  and  temperate  irony,  even  on  subjects  of  ecclesias- 
tical solemnity.    2.  The  Life  of  Julian,  by  the  Abbe  de 
la  Bleterie,  first  introduced  me  to  the  man  and  the  times ; 
and  I  should  be  glad  to  recover  my  first  essay  on  the 
truth  of  the  miracle  which  stopped  the  rebuilding  of  the 
Temple  of  Jerusalem.    3.  In  Giannone's  Civil  History  of 
Naples,  I  observed  with  a  critical  eye  the  progress  and 
abuse  of  sacerdotal  power,  and  the  revolutions  of  Italy  in 
the  darker  ages.    This  various  reading,  which  I  now 
conducted  with  discretion,  was  digested  according  to  the 
precept  and  model  of  Mr.  Locke,  into  a  large  common- 


90 


AUTHOR'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  BOOKS  HE  READ. 


place  book ;  a  practice,  however,  which  I  do  not  strenu- 
ously recommend.  The  action  of  the  pen  will  doubtless 
imprint  an  idea  on  the  mind  as  well  as  on  the  paper :  but 
I  much  question  whether  the  benefits  of  this  laborious 
method  are  adequate  to  the  waste  of  time ;  and  I  must 
agree  with  Dr.  Johnson,  (Idler,  No.  74,)  "  that  what  is 
twice  read,  is  commonly  better  remembered  than  what  is 
transcribed." 


CHAP.  XI. 


AUTHOR'S  TOUR  IN  SWITZERLAND. 

During  two  years,  if  I  forget  some  boyish  excursions 
of  a  day  or  a  week,  I  was  fixed  at  Lausanne ;  but  at  the 
end  of  the  third  summer,  my  father  consented  that  I 
should  make  the  tour  of  Switzerland  with  Paviliiard :  and 
our  short  absence  of  one  month  (September  21st — Octo- 
ber 20th,  1755,)  was  a  reward  and  relaxation  of  my 
assiduous  studies,*    The  fashion  of  climbing  the  moun- 

*  From  Edward  Gibbon  to  Mrs.  Poricn. 

****.**••••***"  Now  for  myself.  As  my 
father  has  given  me  leave  to  make  a  joumej;round  Svvritzerland,  we  set  out 
to-morrow.  Buy  a  rpap  of  Switzerland,  it  will  cost  you  but  a  shiUing,  and 
follow  me.  I  go  by  Iverdun,  Neufchatel,  Bienne  or  Biel,  Soleure  or  Sglo- 
thum.  Bale  or  Basle,  Baden,  Zurich,  Lucerne,  and  Berne.  The  voyage 
will  be  of  about  four  weeks ;  so  that  I  hope  to  find  a  letter  from  you  waiting 
for  me.  As  my  father  had  given  me  leave  to  learn  what  I  had  a  mind,  1 
have  learned  to  ride^lfed  learn  actually  to  dance  and  di-avv.  Besides  that, 
I  often  give  ten  or  Twelve  hours  a  day  to  my  studies.  I  find  a  great  many 
agreeable  people  here,  see  them  sometimes,  and  can  say  upon  the  whole, 
without  vanity,  that  though  I  am  the  Englishman  here  who  spends  the 
least  money,  I  am  he  who  is  the  most  generally  liked.  I  told  you  that  my 
father  had  promised  to  send  me  into  France  and  Italy.  I  have  thanked  hira 
for  it;  but  if  he  would  follow  my  plan,  he  won't  do  it  yet  a  while.  I  never 
liked  young  travellers ;  they  go  too  raw  to  make  any  great  remarks,  and 
they  lose  a  time  which  is  (in  my  opinion)  the  most  precious  part  of  a  man's 
life.  My  scheme  would  be,  to  spend  this  winter  at  Lausanne  (for  though  it 
is  a  very  good  place  to  acquire  the  air  of  good  company  and  the  French 


92 


AUTHOR'S  TOUR  IN  SWITZERLAND. 


tains  and  reviewing  the  glaciers,  had  not  yet  been  intro- 
duced by  foreign  travellers,  who  seek  the  sublime  beau- 
ties of  nature.    But  the  political  face  of  the  country  is 
not  less  diversified  by  the  forms  and  spirit  of  so  many 
various  republics,  from  the  jealous  government  of  the 
few  to  the  licentious  freedom  of  the  many.    I  contem- 
plated with  pleasure  the  new  prospects  of  men  and  man- 
ners ;  though  my  conversation  with  the  natives  would 
have  been  mcn'e  free  and  instructive,  had  I  possessed  the 
German,  as  well  as  the  French,  language.    We  passed 
through  most  of  the  principal  towns  of  Switzerland; 
Neufchatel,  Bienne,  Soleure,  Arau,  Baden,  Zurich,  Basle, 
and  Berne.    In  every  place  we  visited  the  churches,  arse- 
nals, libraries,  and  all  the  most  eminent  persons ;  and, 
after  my  return,  I  digested  my  notes  in  fourteen  or  fifteen 
sheets  of  a  French  journal,  which  I  despatched  to  my 
father,  as  a  proof  that  my  time  and  his  money  had  not 
been  mis-spent.    Had  I  found  this  journal  among  his 

tongue,  wo  have  no  good  professors) ;  to  spend,  I  say,  the  winter  at  Lau- 
sanne ;  go  into  England  to  see  my  friends  a  couple  of  months,  and  affer 
that,  fiuish  my  studies,  either  at  Cambridge  (for  after  what  has  passed  one 
cannot  think  of  Oxford),  or  at  an  university  in  Holland.  If  you  liked  the 
scheme,  could  you  not  propose  it  to  my  father  by  Medmy,  or  somebody  who 
has  a  certain  credit  over  him  7  I  forgot  to  ask  you  whether,  in  case  my 
father  writes  to  tell  me  of  his  maniage,  would  you  advise  me  to  compliment 
my  mother-in-law  1  I  think  so.  My  health  is  so  very  regular  that  I  have 
nothing  to  say  about  it. 

"  I  have  been]  the  whole  day  writing  you  this  letter ;  the  preparation  for 
our  voyage  gave  me  a  thousand  interruptions.  Besides  that,  I  was  obliged 
to  write  in  English.  This  last  reason  will  seem  a  paradox  to  you,  but  I 
assure  you  the  French  is  much  more  familiar  to  me.    I  am.  &c. 

«'  E.  Gibbon." 

"Lausanne,  Sept.  20,  1755." 


AUTHOR'S  TOUR  IN  SWITZERLAND. 


93 


papers,  I  might  be  tempted  to  select  some  passages :  but 
I  will  not  transcribe  the  printed  accounts,  and  it  may  be 
sufficient  to  notice  a  remarkable  spot,  which  left  a  deep 
and  lasting  impression  on  ray  memory.  From  Zurich  we 
proceeded  to  the  Benedictine  Abbey  of  Einfidlen,  more 
commo^y  styled  Our  Lady  of  the  Hermits.  I  was 
astonished  by  the  profuse  ostentation  of  riches  in  the 
poorest  corner  of  Europe ;  amidst  a  savage  scene  of 
woods  and  mountains,  a  palace  appears  to  have  been 
erected  by  magic ;  and  it  was  erected  by  the  potent 
magic  of  religion.  A  crowd  of  palmers  and  votaries  was 
prostrate  before  the  altar.  The  title  and  worship  of  the 
Mother  of  God  provoked  my  indignation ;  and  the  lively 
naked  image  of  superstition  suggested  to  me,  as  in  the 
same  place  it  had  done  to  Zuinglius,  the  most  pressing 
argument  for  the  reformatien  of  the  church.  About  two 
years  after  this  tour,  I  passed  at  Geneva  a  useful  and 
agreeable  month ;  but  this  excursion,  and  some  short 
visits  in  the  Pay  de  Vaud,  did  not  materially  interrupt  my 
studious. and  sedentary  life  at  Lausanne. 

My  thirst  of  improvement,  and  the  languid  state  of 
science  at  Lausanne,  soon  prompted  me  to  solicit  a  lite- 
rary correspondence  with  several  men  of  learning,  whom 
I  had  not  an  opportunity  of  personally  consulting.  1. 
In  the  perusal  of  Livy,  (xxx.  44.)  I  had  been  stopped  by 
a  sentence  in  a  speech  of  Hannibal,  which  cannot  be  re- 
conciled by  any  torture  with  his  character  or  argument. 
The  commentators  dissemble,  or  confess  their  perplexity. 
It  occurred  to  me,  that  the  change  of  a  single  letter,  by 
substituting  otio  instead  of  odio,  might  restore  a  clear 
and  consistent  sense  ;  but  I  wished  to  weigh  m;y  emen- 


AUTHOR'S  TOUR  IN  SWITZERLAND. 


dation  in  scales  less  partial  than  my  own.  I  addressea 
myself  to  M.  Crevier,*  the  successor  of  Rollin,  and  a 
professor  in  the  university  of  Paris,  who  had  published  a 
large  and  valuable  edition  of  Livy.  His  answer  was 
speedy  and  polite ;  he  praised  my  ingenuity,  and  adopted 
my  conjecture.  2.  I  maintained  a  Latin  correspondence, 
at  first  anonymous,  and  afterwards  in  my  own  name, 
with  Professor  Breitinger,f  of  Zurich,  the  learned  editor 
of  a  Septuagint  Bible.  In  our  frequent  letters  we  dis- 
cussed questions  of  antiquity,  many  passages  of  the  Latin 
classics.  I  proposed  my  interpretations  and  amendments. 
His  censures  (for  he  did  not  spare  my  boldness  of  con- 
jecture) were  sharp  and  strong ;  and  I  was  encouraged 
by  the  consciousness  of  my  strength,  when  I  could  stand 
in  free  debate  against  a  critic  of  such  eminence  and 
erudition.  3.  I  corresponded  on  similiar  topics  with  the 
celebrated  Professor  Matthew  Gesner,J  of  the  University 
of  Gottingen ;  and  he  accepted,  as  courteously  as  the 
two  former,  the  invitation  of  an  unknown  youth.  But 
his  abilities  might  possibly  be  decayed  ;  his  elaborate  letters 
were  feeble  and  prolix  ;  and  when  I  asked  his  proper  di- 
rection, the  vain  old  man  covered  half  a  sheet  of  paper 
with  the  foolish  enumeration  of  his  titles  and  otFices.  4. 
These  pj'ofessors  of  Paris,  Zurich,  and  Gottingen,  were 
strangers,  whom  I  presumed  to  address  on  the  credit  of 
their  name ;  bnt  Mr.  Allemand,§  minister  at  Bex,  was  my 
personal  friend,  with  whonj  I  maintained  a  more  free 
and  interesting  correspondence.  He  was  a  master  of 
language,  of  science,  and  above  all,  of  dispute  ;  and  his 

•  See  Letters,  No.  I.  f  See  Letters,  Nos.  IV.  and  V. 

t  See  Letters,  Nos.  VI.  VII.  aud  VIII.   }  See  Letters,  Nos.  II.  and  IIL 


AUTHOR'S  TOUR  IN  SWITZERLAND. 


95 


acute  and  flexible  logic  could  support,  with  equal  ad- 
dress, and  perhaps  with  equal  indifTcrence,  the  adverse 
sides  of  every  possible  question.    His  spirit  wasttictive, 
but  his  pen  had  been  indolent.    Mr.  Allemand  had  ex- 
posed himself  to  much  scandal  and  reproach,  by  an  anony- 
mous letter  (1745)  to  the  Protestants  of  France  ;  in  which 
he  labours  to  persuade  them  that  public  worship  is  the 
exclusive  right  and  duty  of  the  state,  and  that  their  nu- 
merous assemblies  of  dissenters  and  rebels  were  not  au- 
thorized by  the  law  or  the  gospel.    His  style  is  animated, 
his  arguments  specious ;  and  if  the  papist  may  seem  to 
lurk  under  the  mask  of  a  protestant,  the  philosopher  is 
concealed  under  the  disguise  of  a  papist.    After  some 
trials  in  France  and  Holland,  which  were  defeated  by 
his  fortune  or  his  character,  a  genius  that  might  have 
enlightened  or  deluded  the  world,  was  buried  in  a  country 
living,  unknown  to  fame,  and  discontented  with  mankind. 
Est  sacrificulus  in  pago,  et  rusticos  decipit.    As  often  as 
private  or  ecclesiastical  business  called  him  to  Lausanne, 
I  enjoyed  the  pleasure  and  benefit  of  his  conversation, 
and  we  were  mutually  flattered  by  our  attention  to  each 
other.    Our  correspondence,  in  his  absence  chiefly  turned 
on  Locke's  metaphysics,  which  he  attacked,  and  I  de- 
fended ;  the  origin  of  ideas,  the  principles  of  evidence, 
and  the  doctrine  of  liberty  ; 

And  found  no  end,  in  wandering  mazes  lost. 

By  fencmg  with  so  skillful  a  master  I  acquired  some  dex- 
terity in  the  use  of  my  philosophic  weapons ;  but  I  was 
still  the  slave  of  education  and  prejudice.    He  had  some 


X 


96 


AUTHOR'S  TOUR  IN  SWITZERLAND. 


measures  to  keep ;  and  I  much  suspect  that  he  never 
showed  me  the  true  colours  of  his  secret  scepticism. 

BefOTe  I.  was  recalled  from  Switzerland^  I  had  the  sa- 
tisfaction of  seeing  the  most  extraordinary  man  of  the 
age ;  a  poet,  an  historian,  a  philosopher,  who  has  filled 
thirty  quartos,  of  prose  and  verse,  with  his  various  pro- 
ductions, often  excellent,  and  always  entertaining.  Need 
I  add  the  name  of  Voltaire  ?  After  forfeiting,  by  his 
own  misconduct,  the  friendship  of  the  first  of  kings,  he  re- 
tired at  tjie  age  of  sixty,  with  a  plentiful  fortune,  to  a  free  and 
beautiful  country,  and  resided  two  winters  (1757  and  1758) 
in  the  town  or  neighbourhood  of  Lausanne.  My  desire  of 
beholding  Voltaire,  whom  I  then  rated  above  his  real 
magnitude,  was  easily  gi-atified.  He  received  me  with 
civility  as  an  English  youth ;  but  I  cannot  boast  of 
any  peculiar  notice  or  distinction ;  Virgilium  vidi 
tantum. 

The  ode  which  he  composed  on  his  first  arrival  on  the 
banks  of  the  Leman  Lake,  "  O  maison  d'Aristippe  !  O 
jarden  d'Epicure,"  &c.,  had  been  imparted  as  a  secret  to 
the  gentleman  by  whom  I  was  introduced.  He  allowed 
me  to  read  it  twice  ;  I  knew  it  by  heart ;  and  as  my  dis- 
cretion was  not  equal  to  my  memory,  the  author  was 
soon  displeased  by  the  circulation  of  a  copy.  In  writing 
this  trivial  anecdote,  I  wished  to  observe  whether  my 
memory  was  impaired,  and  I  have  the  comfort  of  finding 
that  every  line  of  the  poem  is  still  engraved  in  fresh  and 
indelible  characters.  The  highest  gratification  which 
I  derived  from  Voltaire's  residence  at  Lausanne,  was  the 
uncommon  circumstance  of  hearing  a  great  poet  declaim 
his  own  productions  on  the  stage.     Ho  had  formed 


AUTHOR'S  TOTJR  IN  SVVITZKRLAND. 


97 


a  company  of  gentlemen  and  ladies  some  of  whom  were 
not  destitute  of  talents.  A  decent  theatre  was  framed  at 
Monrepos,  a  country-house  at  the  end  of  a  suburb ; 
dresses  and  scenes  were  provided  at  the  expense  of  the 
actors ;  and  the  author  directed  the  rehearsals  with  the 
zeal  and  attention  of  paternal  love.  In  two  successive 
winters  his  tragedies  of  Zaire,  Alzire,  Zulime,  and  his 
sentimental  comedy  of  the  Enfant  Prodigue,  were  played 
at  the  theatre  of  Monrepos.  Voltaire  represented  the 
characters  best  adapted  to  his  years,  Lusignan,  Alvarez, 
Benasser,  Euphemon.  His  declamation  was  fashioned 
to  the  pomp  and  cadence  of  the  old  stage ;  and  he  ex- 
pressed the  enthusiasm  of  poetry,  rather  than  the  feelings 
of  nature.  My  ardour  which  soon  became  conspicuous, 
seldom  failed  of  procuring  me  a  ticket.  The  habits  of 
pleasure  fortified  my  taste  for  the  French  theatre,  and  that 
taste  has  perhaps  abated  my  idolatry  for  the  gigantic 
genuis  of  Shakespear,  which  is  inculcated  from  our  in- 
fancy as  the  first  duty  of  an  Englishman.  The  wit  and 
philosophy  of  Voltaire,  his  table  and  theatre,  refined,  in  a 
visible  degree,  the  manners  of  Lausanne  ;  and,  however 
addicted  to  study,  I  enjoyed  my  share  of  the  amusements 
of  society.  After  the  representation  of  Monrepos,  I 
sometimes  supped  with  the  actors.  I  was  now  familiar 
in  some,  and  acquainted  in  many,  houses ;  and  my 
evenings  were  generally  devoted  to  cards  and  conversa- 
tion, either  in  private  parties  or  numerous  assemblies.  [ 


CHAP.  XII. 


MADEMOISELLE  CURCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME 
NECKER. 

I  hesitate,  from  the  apprehension  of  ridicule,  when  I 
approach  the  delicate  subject  of  my  early  love.  By  this 
word  I  do  not  mean  the  polite  attention,  the  gallantry, 
without  hope  or  design,  which  has  originated  in  the  spirit 
of  chivalry,  and  is  interwoven  with  the  texture  of  French 
manners.  I  understand  by  this  passion  the  union  of 
desire,  friendship,  and  tenderness,  which  is  inflamed  by  a 
single  female,  which  prefers  her  to  the  rest  of  her  sex, 
and  which  seeks  her  possession  as  the  supreme  or  the 
sole  happiness  of  our  being.  I  need  not  blush  at  recol- 
lecting the  object  of  my  choice  ;  and  though  my  love  was 
disappointed  of  success,  I  am  rather  proud  that  I  was 
once  capable  of  feeling  such  a  pure  and  exalted  senti- 
ment. The  personal  attractions  of  Mademoiselle  Susan 
Curchod  were  embellished  by  the  virtues  and  talents  of 
the  mind.  Her  fortune  was  humble,  but  her  family  was 
respectable.  Her  mother,  a  native  of  France,  had  pre- 
ferred her  religion  to  her  country.  The  profession  of  her 
father  did  not  extinguish  the  moderation  and  philosophy 
of  his  temper,  and  he  lived,  content  with  a  small  salary 
and  laborious  duty,  in  the  obscure  lot  of  minister  of 
Crassy,  in  the  mountains  that  separate  the  Pays  de  Vaud 


M'SELLE  CURCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER.  99 


from  the  county  of  Burgundy.*  In  the  solitude  of  a 
sequestered  village  he  bestowed  a  liberal,  and  even 
learned,  education  on  his  only  daughter.  She  surpassed 
his  hopes  by  her  proficiency  in  the  sciences  and  lan- 
guages ;  and  in  her  short  visits  to  some  relations  at  Lau- 
sanne, the  wit,  the  beauty,  and  erudition  of  Mademoiselle 
Curchod  were  the  theme  of  universal  applause.  The 
report  of  such  a  prodigy  awakened  my  curiosity  ;  I  saw 
and  loved.  I  found  her  learned  without  pedantry,  hvely 
in  conversation,  pure  in  sentiment,  and  elegant  in  man- 
ners ;  and  the  first  sudden  emotion  was  fortified  by  the 
habits  and  knowledge  of  a  more  familiar  acquaintance. 
She  permitted  me  to  make  her  two  or  three  visits  at  her 


*  Extracts  from  ike  Journal. 


March,  1757. 
March  8th. 
June. 

August. 
Sept.  I5th. 
Oct.  15th. 
Nov.  1st. 

Nov.  I7th 
Jan.  1758. 


Jan.  23rd. 


I  wrote  some  critical  observations  upon  Plautus. 

I  wrote  a  long  dissertation  on  some  lines  of  Virgil. 

I  saw  Mademoiselle  Curchod — Omnia  Vincit  amor,  et  not 

eedamus  amori. 
I  went  to  Crassy,  and  staid  two  days. 
I  went  to  Geneva. 

I  came  back  to  Lausanne,  having  passed  through  Crassy. 

I  went  to  visit  M.  de  Watteville  at  Loin,  and  saw  Made- 
moiselle Curchod  in  my  way  tlirough  Rolle. 

I  went  to  Crassy,  and  staid  there  six  days. 

In  the  three  first  months  of  this  year  I  read  Ovid's  Metamor. 
phoses,  finished  the  conic  sections  with  M.  de  Tray, 
torrens,  and  went  as  far  as  the  infinite  series ;  I  like- 
wise read  Sir  Isaac  Newton's  Chronology,  and  wrote 
my  critical  observations  upon  it. 

I  saw  Alzire  acted  by  the  society  at  Monrepos.  Voltaire 
acted  Alvarez;  D'Hermanches,  Zamore ;  De  St. 
Cierge,  Guzman  ;  M.  de  Gentil,  Monteze ;  and  Ma- 
dame Denys,  Alzire. 


100    M'SELLE  CURCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER. 


ther's  house.  I  passed  some  happy  days  there,  in  the 
mountains  of  Bergundy,  and  her  parents  honourably  en- 
couraged the  connexion.  In  a  calm  retirement  the  gay 
vanity  of  youth  no  longer  fluttered  in  her  bosom ;  she 
•  listened  to  the  voice  of  truth  and  passion,  and  I  might 
presume  to  hope  that  I  had  made  some  impression  on  a 
virtuous  heart.  At  Crassey  and  Lausanne  I  indulged  my 
dream  of  felicity :  but  on  my  return  to  England,  I  soon 
discovered  that  my  father  would  not  hear  of  this  strange 
alliance,  and  that  without  his  consent  I  was  mvself  desti- 
tute  and  helpless.  After  a  painful  struggle  I  yielded  to 
my  fate :  I  sighed  as  a  lover,  I  obeyed  as  a  son  ;*  my 
■wound  was  insensibly  healed  by  time,  absence,  and  the 
habits  of  a  new  life.  My  cure  was  accelerated  by  a 
faithful  report  of  tranquillity  and  cheerfulness  of  the  lady 
herself,  and  my  love  subsided  in  friendship  and  esteem. 
The  minister  of  Crassey  soon  afterwards  died ;  his 
stipend  died  with  him :  his  daughter  retired  to  Geneva, 
where,  by  teaching  young  ladies,  she  earned  a  hard  sub- 
sistence for  herself  and  her  mother ;  but  in  her  lowest 
distress  she  maintained  a  spotless  reputation,  and  a  digni- 
fied behaviour.  A  rich  banker  of  Paris,  a  citizen  of 
Geneva,  had  the  good  fortune  and  good  sense  to  discover 
and  possess  this  inestimable  treasure ;  and  in  the  capital 
of  taste  and  luxury  she  resisted  the  temptations  of  wealth, 
as  she  had  sustained  the  hardships  of  indigence.  The 

*  See  CEavres  de  Rousseao,  torn,  xxxiii.  p.  88,  89,  octavo  edition.  As  an 
author  I  shall  not  appeal  from  the  judgment,  or  taste,  or  caprice  of  Jean 
Jacques;  bat  that  extraominary  man,  whom  I  admire  and  pity,  should  have 
been  less  precipitate  in  condemning  the  moral  character  and  condact  of  a 
Btrangek 


M'SELLE  CURCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER.  lOI 


genius  of  her  husband  has  exalted  him  to  the  most  con- 
spicuous station  in  Europe.  In  every  change  of  prospe- 
rity and  disgrace  he  has  reclined  on  the  bosom  of  a 
faithful  friend ;  and  Mademoiselle  Curchod  is  now  the 
wife  of  M.  Necker,  the  minister,  and  perhaps  the  legisla- 
tor, of  the  French  monarchy. 

Whatsoever  have  been  the  fruits  of  my  educatien,  they 
must  be  ascribed  to  the  fortunate  banishment  which 
placed  me  at  Lausanne.  I  have  sometimes  applied  to 
my  own  fate  the  verses  of  Pindar,  which  remind  an 
Olympic  champion  that  his  victory  was  the  consequence 
of  his  exile ;  and  that  at  home,  like  a  domestic  fowl,  his 
days  might  have  rolled  away  inactive  and  inglorious. 

yjToi  xai  Tsa.  X8U, 
'Ev5o(jwij^aff  air'  aXsxrwp, 

'AxXsT)5  Tifjia  xaT£(puXXopor](j'e  nroSuv. 
E/      (fragig  dvriaveipa 

Kvcotfiag  afXEptfg  irarpas*  Ohjmp.  xil. 

If  my  childish  revolt  against  the  religion  of  my  country 
had  not  stripped  me  in  time  of  my  academical  gown,  the 
five  important  years  so  liberally  improved  in  the  studies 
and  conversation  of  Lausanne,  would  have  been  steeped 

*  Thus  like  the  crested  bird  of  Mars,  at  home 
Engaged  in  foul  domestic  jars, 
And  wasted  with  intestine  wars, 
Inglorious  hadst  thou  spent  thy  vig'rous  bloom: 
Had  not  sedition's  civil  broils 
Expelled  thee  from  thy  native  Crete, 
And  driven  thee  with  more  glorious  toils, 
Tho  Olympic  crown  in  Pisa's  plain  to  meet.    West's  Pindar, 


102   M'SELLE  CCRCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER. 


in  port  and  prejudice  among  the  monks  of  Oxford.  Had 
the  fatigue  of  idleness  compelled  me  to  read,  the  path  of 
learning  would  not  have  been  enlighted  by  a  ray  of 
philosophic  freedom.  I  should  have  grown  to  manhood 
ignorant  of  the  life  and  language  of  Europe,  and  my 
knowledge  of  the  world  would  have  been  confined  to  an 
English  cloister.  But  my  religious  error  fixed  me  at 
Lausanne  in  a  state  o*f  banishment  and  disgrace.  The 
rigid  course  of  discipline  and  abstinence,  to  which  I  was 
condemned,  invigorated  the  constitution  of  my  mind  and 
body ;  poverty  and  pride  restrained  me  from  my  coun- 
trymen. One  mischief,  however,  and  in  iheir  eyes  a  se- 
rious and  irreparable  mischief  was  derived  from  the  suc- 
cess of  my  Swiss  education:  I  had  ceased  to  be  an  Eng- 
lishman. At  the  flexible  period  of  youth,  from  the  age 
of  sixteen  to  twenty-one,  my  opinions,  habits,  and  senti- 
ments were  cast  in  a  foreign  mould  ;  the  faint  and  distant 
remembrance  of  England  was  almost  obliterated;  my 
native  language  was  grown  less  familiar ;  and  I  should  have 
cheerfully  accepted  the  offer  of  a  moderate  independence 
on  the  terms  of  perpetual  exile.  By  the  good  sense  and 
temper  of  Pavilliard  my  yoke  was  insensibly  lightened : 
he  left  me  master  of  my  time  and  actions ;  but  he  could 
neither  change  my  situation,  nor  increase  my  allowance ; 
and  with  the  progress  of  my  years  and  reason  I  impa- 
tiently sighed  for  the  moment  of  my  deliverance.  At 
length,  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1758,  my  father  signified 
his  permission  and  his  pleasure  that  I  should  immediately 
return  home.  We  were  then  in  the  midst  of  a  war :  the 
resentment  of  the  French  at  our  taking  their  ships  with- 
out  a  declaration,  had  rendered  that  polite  nation  some- 


M'SELLE  CURCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER.  103 

what  peevish  and  difRcult.    They  denied  a  passage  to 
Enghsh  travellers,  and  the  road  through  Germany  was 
circuitous,  toilsome,  and  perhaps,  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  armies,  exposed  to  some  danger.    In  this  perplexity, 
two  Swiss  officers  of  my  acquaintance,  in  the  Dutch  ser- 
vice, who  were  returning  to  their  garrisons,  offered  to 
conduct  me  through  France  as  one  of  their  companions ; 
nor  did  we  sufficiently  reflect  that  my  borrowed  name 
and  regimentals  might  have  been  considered,  in  case  of 
discovery,  in  a  very  serious  light.    I  took  my  leave  of 
Lausanne  on  the  1 1th  of  April,  1758,  with  a  mixture  of 
joy  and  regret,  in  the  firm  resolution  of  revisiting,  as  a 
man,  the  persons  and  places  which  had  been  so  dear  to 
my  youth.    We  travelled  slowly,  but  pleasantly,  in  a 
hired  coach,  over  the  hills  of  Franche-Compte  and  the 
fertile  province  of  Lorraine ;  and  passed,  without  acci- 
dent or  inquiry,  through  several  fortified  towns  of  the 
French  frontier :  from  thence  we  entered  the  wild  Ar- 
dennes of  the  Austrian  duchy  of  Luxembourg;  and  after 
crossing  the  Meuse  at  Leige,  we  traversed  the  heaths  of 
Bi-abant,  and  reached,  on  the  15th  day,  our  Dutch  garri- 
son of  Blois  le  Due.    In  our  passage  through  Nanc,  my 
eye  was  gratified  by  the  aspect  of  a  regular  and  beautiful 
city,  the  work  of  Stanislaus,  who,  after  the  storms  of 
Polish  royalty,  reposed  in  the  love  and  gratitude  of  his 
new  subjects  of  Lorraine.    In  our  halt  at  Maestricht  I 
visited  M.  de  Beaufort,  a  learned  critic,  who  was  known 
to  me  by  his  specious  argui.ients  against  the  five  first  cen- 
turies of  the  Roman  history.    After  dropping  my  regi- 
mental companions,  I  stepped  aside  to  visit  Rotterdam 
and  the  Hague.    I  wished  to  have  observed  a  country. 


104  M'SELLE  CURCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER. 

the  monument  of  freedom  and  industry ;  but  my  days 
were  numbered,  and  a  longer  delay  would  have  been  un- 
graceful. I  hastened  to  embark  at  the  Brill,  landed  the 
next  day  at  Hardwich,  and  proceeded  to  London,  where 
my  father  awaited  my  arrival.  The  whole  term  of  my 
first  absence  from  England  was  four  years,  ten  months, 
and  fifteen  days. 

In  the  prayers  of  the  church  our  personal  concerns  are 
judiciously  reduced  to  the  threefold  distinction  of  mind, 
body,  and  estate.  The  sentiments  of  the  mind  excite  and 
exercise  our  social  sympathy.  The  review  of  my  moral 
and  literary  character  is  the  most  interesting  to  myself 
and  to  the  public  ;  and  I  may  expatiate  without  reproach 
on  my  private  studies ;  since  they  have  produced  the 
public  writings,  which  can  alone  entitle  me  to  the  esteem 
and  friendship  of  my  readers.  The  experience  of  the 
world  inculcates  a  discreet  reserve  on  the  subject  of  our 
person  and  estate,  and  we  soon  learn  that  a  free  dis- 
closure of  our  riches  or  poverty  would  provoke  the 
maUce  of  envy,  or  encourage  the  insolence  of  contempt. 

The  only  person  in  England  whom  I  was  impatient  to 
see,  was  my  aunt  Porten,  the  affectionate  guardian  of  my 
tender  years.  1  hastened  to  her  house  in  College-street, 
Westminister ;  and  the  evening  was  spent  in  the  effusions 
of  joy  and  confidence.  It  was  not  without  some  awe 
and  apprehension  that  I  approached  the  presence  of  my 
father.  My  infancy,  to  speak  the  truth,  had  been  ne- 
glected at  home ;  the  severity  of  his  look  and  language 
at  our  last  parting  still  dwelt  on  my  memory ;  nor  could 
I  form  any  notion  of  his  character,  or  my  probable  recep- 
tion.   They  were  both  more  agreeable  than  I  could  ex- 


..i  SELLE  CURCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER.  105 


pect.  The  domestic  discipline  of  our  ancestors  has  been 
relaxed  by  the  philosophy  and  softness  of  the  age ;  and  if 
my  father  remembered  that  he  had  trembled  before  a 
stern  parent,  it  was  only  to  adopt  with  his  own  son  an 
opposite  mode  of  behaviour.  He  received  me  as  a  man 
and  a  friend ;  all  constraint  was  banished  at  our  first 
interview,  and  we  ever  afterwards  continued  on  the  same 
terms  of  easy  and  equal  politeness.  He  applauded  the 
success  of  my  education ;  every  word  and  action  was 
expressive  of  the  most  cordial  affbtJtion ;  and  our  lives 
would  have  passed  without  a  cloud,  if  his  economy  had 
been  equal  to  his  fortune,  or  if  his  fortune  had  been  equal 
to  his  desires.  During  my  absence  he  had  married  his 
second  wife.  Miss  Dorothea  Patton,  who  was  introduced 
to  me  with  the  most  unfavourable  prejudice.  I  con- 
sidered his  second  marriage  as  an  act  of  displeasure,  and  I 
was  disposed  to  hate  the  rival  of  my  mother.  But  the  in- 
justice was  in  my  own  fancy,  and  the  imaginary  monster 
was  an  amiable  and  deserving  woman.  I  could  not  be 
mistaken  in  the  first  view  of  her  understanding,  her  know- 
ledge, and  the  elegant  spirit  of  her  conversation  :  her  polite 
welcome,  and  her  assiduous  care  to  study  and  gratify  my 
wishes,  announced  at  least  that  the  surface  would  be 
smooth ;  and  my  suspicions  of  art  and  falsehood  were 
gradually  dispelled  by  the  full  discovery  of  her  warm 
and  exquisite  sensibility.  After  some  reserve  on  my  side, 
our  minds  associated  in  confidence  and  friendship ;  and 
as  Mrs.  Gibbon  had  neither  children  nor  the  hopes  of 
children,  we  more  easily  adopted  the  tender  names  and 
genuine  characters  of  mother  and  of  son.  By  the  indul- 
gence of  these  parents,  I  was  left  at  liberty  to  consult  my 


106    M'SELLE  CURCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER. 


taste  or  reason  in  the  choice  of  place,  of  company,  and  of 
amusements ;  and  my  excursions  were  bounded  only  by 
the  limits  of  the  island,  and  the  measure  of  my  income. 
Some  faint  efforts  were  made  to  procure  me  the  employ- 
ment of  a  secretary  to  a  foreign  embassy ;  and  I  listened 
to  a  scheme  which  would  again  have  transported  me  to 
the  Continent.  Mrs.  Gibbon,  with  seeming  wisdom,  ex- 
horted me  to  take  chambers  in  the  Temple,  and  devote  my 
leisure  to  the  study  of  the  law.  I  cannot  repent  of  hav- 
ing neglected  her  advice.  Few  men,  without  the  spur 
of  necessity,  have  resolution  to  force  their  way  through 
the  thorns  and  thickets  of  that  gloomy  labyrinth.  Nature 
had  not  endowed  me  with  the  bold  and  ready  eloquence 
which  makes  itself  heard  amidst  the  tumult  of  the  bar; 
and  I  should  probably  have  been  diverted  from  the  labours 
of  literature,  without  acquiring  the  fame  or  fortune  of  a 
successful  pleader.  I  had  no  need  to  call  to  my  aid  the 
regular  duties  of  a  profession;  every  day,  every  hour 
was  agreeably  filled ;  nor  have  I  known,  like  so  many  of 
my  countrymen,  the  tediousness  of  an  idle  life. 

Of  the  two  years  (May,  1758— May,  1760,)  between 
my  return  to  England,  and  the  embodying  of  the  Hamp- 
shire militia,  I  passed  about  nine  months  in  London,  and 
the  remainder  in  the  country.  The  metropolis  affords 
many  amusements  which  are  open  to  all.  It  is  itself 
an  astonishing  and  perpetual  spectacle  to  the  curious 
eye ;  and  each  taste,  each  sense  may  be  gratified  by  the 
variety  of  objects  which  will  occur  in  the  long  circuit  of 
a  morning  walk.  I  assiduously  frequented  the  theatres 
at  a  very  propitious  sera  of  the  stage,  when  a  constella- 
tion of  excellent  actors,  both  in  tragedy  and  comedy, 


M'SELLE  CURCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER.  107 


was  eclipsed  by  the  meridian  brightness  of  Garrick,  in 
the  maturity  of  his  judgment  and  vigour  of  his  per- 
formance. The  pleasures  of  a  town  life  are  within  the 
reach  of  every  man  who  is  regardless  of  his  health,  his 
money,  and  his  company.  By  the  contagion  of  example 
I  was  sometimes  seduced ;  but  the  better  habits  which  I 
had  formed  at  Lausanne,*  induced  me  to  seek  a  more 
elegant  and  rational  society ;  and  if  my  search  was  less 
easy  and  successful  than  I  might  have  hoped,  I  shall  at 
present  impute  the  failure  to  the  disadvantages  of  my 
situation  and  character.  Had  the  rank  and  fortune  of  my 
parents  given  them  an  annual  establishment  in  London, 
their  own  house  would  have  introduced  me  to  a  numerous 
and  polite  circle  of  acquaintance.  But  my  father's  taste 
had  always  preferred  the  highest  and  the  lowest  company, 
for  which  he  was  equally  qualified  ;  and  after  twelve 
years'  retirement,  he  was  no  longer  in  the  memory  of  the 
great  with  whom  he  had  associated.  I  found  myself 
a  stranger  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  and  unknown  city ; 
and  at  my  entrance  into  life  I  was  reduced  to  some  dull 
family  parties,  and  some  scattered  connexions,  vi^hich  were 
not  such  as  I  should  have  chosen  for  myself.  The  most 
useful  friends  of  my  father  were  the  Mallets :  they  re- 
ceived me  with  civility  and  kindness,  at  first  on  his  ac- 
count, and  afterwards  on  my  own  ;  and  (if  I  may  use 
Lord  Chesterfield's  words)  I  was  soon  domesticated  in 
their  house.  Mr.  Mallet,  a  name  among  the  English 
poets,  is  praised,  by  an  unforgiving  enemy,  for  the  ease 
and  elegance  of  his  conversation,  and  his  vfife  was  not 
destitute  of  wit  or  learning.  By  his  assistance  I  was 
introduced  to  Lady  Hervey,  the  mother  of  the  present 


OSM'SELLE  CUECHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER. 


Earl  of  Bristol.  Her  age  and  infirmities  confined  her 
at  home :  her  dinners  were  select ;  in  the  evening  her 
house  was  open  to  the  best  company  of  both  sexes,  and  all 
nations ;  nor  was  1  displeased  at  her  preference  and 
affectation  of  the  manners,  the  language  and  the  literature 
of  France.  But  my  progress  in  the  English  world  was 
in  general  left  to  my  own  efforts,  and  those  efforts  were 
languid  and  slow.  I  had  not  been  endowed  by  art  or 
nature  with  those  happy  gifts  of  confidence  and  address, 
which  unlock  every  door  and  every  bosom  ;  nor  would 
it  be  reasonable  to  complain  of  the  just  consequences  oi 
my  sickly  childhood,  foreign  education,  and  reserved 
temper.  While  coaches  were  rattling  through  Bond- 
street,  I  have  passed  many  a  solitary  evening  in  my 
lodging  with  my  books.  My  studies  were  sometimes  in- 
terrupted by  a  sigh,  which  I  breathed  towards  Lau- 
sanne ;  and  on  the  approach  of  spring,  I  withdrew  with- 
out reluctance  from  the  noisy  and  extensive  scene  of 
crowds  without  company  and  dissipation  without  pleasure. 
In  each  of  the  twenty-five  years  of  my  acquaintance  with 
London  (1758 — 1783)  the  prospect  gradually  brightened  ; 
and  this  unfavourable  picture  most  prooerly  belongs  to 
the  first  period  after  my  return  from  Switzerland. 

My  father's  residence  in  Hampshire,  where  I  have 
passed  many  light,  and  some  heavy  hours,  was  atBuriton, 
near  Petersficld,  one  mile  from  the  Portsmouth  road,  and 
at  the  easy  distance  of  fifty-eight  miles  from  London.* 
An  old  mansion,  in  a  state  of  decay,  had  been  converted 

*  The  estate  and  manor  of  Beriton,  otherwise  Buriton,  were  congider* 
able,  and  were  sold  a  few  years  ago  to  Lord  Stowell. — S. 


109  M'SELLE  CURCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER.  / 


into  the  fashion  and  convenience  of  a  modern  house :  aud 
if  strangers  had  nothing  to  see,  the  inhabitants  had 
little  to  desire.  The  spot  was  not  happily  chosen,  at  the 
end  of  the  village  and  the  bottom  of  the  hill :  but  the 
aspect  of  the  adjacent  grounds  was  various  and  cheerful ; 
the  downs  commanded  a  noble  prospect,  and  the  long 
hanging  woods  in  sight  of  the  house  could  not  perhaps 
have  been  improved  by  art  or  expense.  My  father  kept 
in  his  own  hands  the  whole  of  the  estate,  and  even  rented 
some  additional  land  ;  and  -whatsoever  might  be  the  balance 
of  profit  and  loss,  the  farm  supplied  him  with  amusement 
and  plenty.  The  produce  maintained  a  number  of  men 
and  horses,  which  were  multiplied  by  the  intermixture 
of  domestic  and  rural  servants ;  and  in  the  intervals  of 
labour  the  favourite  team,  a  handsome  set  of  bays  or 
greys,  was  harnessed  to  the  coach.  The  economy  of 
the  house  was  regulated  by  the  taste  and  prudence  of  Mrs. 
Gibbon.  She  prided  herself  in  the  elegance  of  her  oc- 
casional dinners ;  and  from  the  uncleanly  avarice  of 
Madame  Pavilliard,  I  was  suddenly  transported  to  the 
daily  neatness  and  luxury  of  an  English  table.  Our  im- 
mediate neighbourhood  was  rare  and  rustic ;  but  from 
the  verge  of  our  hills,  as  far  as  Chichester  and  Good- 
wood, the  western  district  of  Sussex  was  interspersed 
with  noble  seats  and  hospitable  families,  with  whom  we 
cultivated  a  friendly,  and  might  have  enjoyed  a  very  fre- 
quent, intercourse.  As  my  stay  at  Buriton  was  always 
voluntary,  I  was  received  and  dismissed  with  smiles ;  but 
the  comforts  of  my  retirement  did  not  depend  on  the 
ordinary  pleasures  of  the  country.  My  father  could 
never  inspire  mc  with  his  love  and  knowledge  of  farm- 


no    M'iELLE  CURCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER. 


ing.  I  never  handled  a  gun,  I  seldom  mounted  a  horse  ;  * 
and  my  philosophic  walks  were  soon  terminated  by  a 
shady  bench,  where  I  was  long  detained  by  the  sedentary 
amusement  of  reading  or  meditation.  At  home  I  occu- 
pied a  pleasant  and  spacious  apartment ;  the  library  on 
the  same  floor  was  soon  considered  as  my  peculiar  do- 
main ;  and  I  might  say  with  truth,  that  I  was  never  less 
alone  than  when  by  myself.  My  sole  complaint,  which 
I  piously  suppressed,  arose  from  the  kind  restraint  im- 
posed on  the  freedom  of  my  time.  By  the  habit  of  early 
rising  I  always  secured  a  sacred  portion  of  the  day,  and 
many  scattered  moments  were  stolen  and  employed  by 
my  studious  industry.  But  the  family  hours  of  breakfast, 
of  dinner,  of  tea,  and  of  supper,  were  regular  and  long : 
after  breakfast  Mrs.  Gibbon  expected  my  company  in 
her  dressing-room  ;  after  tea,  my  father  claimed  my  con- 
versation and  the  perusal  of  the  newspapers ;  and  in  the 
midst  of  an  interesting  work  I  was  often  called  down  to 
receive  the  visit  of  some  idle  neighbours.  Their  dinners 
and  visits  required,  in  due  season,  a  similar  return ;  and 
1  dreaded  the  period  of  the  full  moon,  which  was  usually 
reserved  for  our  more  distant  excursions.  I  could  not 
refuse  attending  my  father,  in  the  summer  of  1759,  to 
the  races  at  Stockbridgc,  Reading,  and  Odiham,  where 
ho  had  entered  a  horse  for  the  hunters  plate;  and  I  was 
not  displeased  with  the  sight  of  our  Olympic  games,  the 
beauty  of  the  spot,  the  flcetness  of  the  horses,  and  the 
gay  tumult  of  the  numerous  spectators.  As  soon  as  the 
militia  business  was  agitated,  many  days  were  tediously 
consumed  in  meetings  of  deputy  lieutenants  at  Peters- 
field,  Alton  and  Winchester.    In  the  close  of  the  same 


M'SELLE  CL'RCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER.  Ill 


year,  1759,  Sir  Simeon  (then  Mr.)  Stewart  attempted  an 
unsuccessful  contest  for  the  county  of  Southampton, 
against  Mr.  Legge,  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer :  a  well- 
known  contest,  in  which  Lord  Bute's  influence  was  first 
exerted  and  censured.  Our  canvass  at  Portsmouth  and 
Gosport  lasted  several  days  ;  but  the  interruption  of  my 
studies  was  compensated  in  some  degree  by  the  spectacle 
of  English  manners,  and  the  acquisition  of  some  practical 
knowledge. 

If  in  a  more  domestic  or  more  dissipated  scene  my  ap- 
plication was  somewhat  relaxed,  the  love  of  knowledge 
was  inflamed  and  gratified  by  the  command  of  books ; 
and  I  compared  the  poverty  of  Lausanne  with  the  plenty 
of  London.    My  father's  study  at  Buriton  was  stuffed 
with  much  trash  of  the  last  age,  with  much  high  church 
divinity  and  politics,  which  have  long  since  gone  to  their 
proper  place ;  yet  it  contained  some  valuable  editions  of 
the  classics  and  the  fathers,  the  choice,  as  it  would  seem, 
of  Mr.  Law  ;  and  many  English  publications  of  the  times 
had  been  occasionally  added.    From  this  slender  begin- 
ning I  have  gradually  formed  a  numerous  and  select 
library,  the  foundation  of  my  M'orks,  and  the  best  com- 
fort of  my  life,  both   at  home  and  abroad.    On  the 
receipt  of  the  first  quarter,  a  large  share  of  my  allowance 
was  appropriated  to  my  literary  wants.    I  cannot  forget 
the  joy  with  which  I  exchanged  a  bank-note  of  twenty 
pounds  for  the  twenty  volumes  of  the  Memoirs  of  the 
Academy  of  Inscriptions  ;  nor  would  it  have  been  easy, 
by  any  other  expenditure  of  the  same  sum,  to  have  pro- 
cured so  large  and  lasting  a  fund  of  rational  amusement. 
At  a  time  when  I  most  assiduously  frequented  this  school 


n-2   M'SELLE  CURCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER. 


of  ancient  literature,  I  thus  expressed  my  opinion  of  a 
learned  and  various  collection,  which  since  the  year  1759 
has  been  doubled  in  magnitude,  though  not  in  merit — 
"  Une  de  ces  societes,  qui  ont  mieux  immortalise  Louis 
XIV.  qu'une  ambition  souvent  pernicieuse  aux  hommes, 
commengait  deja  ces  recherches  qui  reunissent  la  justesse 
de  I'espnt,  I'amenite  et  I'erudition :  ou  Ton  voit  tant  des 
decouvertes,  et  quelquefois,  ce  qui  ne  cede  qu'a  peine  aux 
decouvertes,  une  ignorance  modeste  et  savante."  The 
review  of  my  library  must  be  reserved  for  the  period  of 
its  maturity  ;  but  in  this  place  I  may  allow  myself  to  ob- 
serve, that  I  am  not  conscious  of  having  ever  bought  a 
book  from  a  motive  of  ostentation,  that  every  volume, 
before  it  was  deposited  on  the  shelf,  was  either  read  or 
sufficiently  examined,  and  that  I  soon  adopted  the  tole- 
rating maxim  of  the  elder  Pliny,  "  nullum  esse  librum  tam 
malum  ut  non  ex  aliqua  parte  prodesset."    I  could  not  yet 
find  leisure  or  courage  to  renew  the  pursuit  of  the  Greek 
language,  excepting  by  reading  the  lessons  of  the  Old 
and  New  Testament  every  Sunday,  when  I  attended  the 
family  to  church.    The  series  of  my  Latin  authors  were 
less  strenuously  completed ;  but  the  acquisition,  by  inhe- 
ritance or  purchase,  of  the  best  editions  of  Cicero,  Quin- 
tilian,  Livy,  Tacitus,  Ovid,  &.c.  afforded  a  fair  prospect, 
which  I  seldom  neglected.    I  persevered  in  the  useful 
method  of  abstracts  and   observations ;   and  a  single 
example  may  suffice,  of  a  note  which  had  almost  swelled 
into  a  work.    The  solution  of  a  passage  of  Livy  (xxviii. 
38.)  involved  me  in  the  dry  and  dark  treatises  of  Greaves, 
Arburthnot,  Hooper,  Bernard,  Eisenschmidt,  Gronovius, 
La  Barrt',  Frerct,  &c ;  and  in  my  French  essay  (chap. 


M'SELLE  CURCHOD— AP'TERWARDS  xMADAME  NECKER.  113 


20.)  I  ridiculously  send  the  reader  to  my  own  manuscript 
remarks  on  the  weights,  coins,  and  measures  of  the 
ancients,  which  were  abruptly  terminated  by  the  militia 
drum. 

As  I  am  now  entering  on  a  more  ample  field  of  society 
and  study,  I  can  only  hope  to  avoid  a  vain  and  prolix 
garrulity,  by  overlooking  the  vulgar  crowd  of  my 
acquaintance,  and  confining  myself  to  such  intimate 
friends  among  books  and  men,  as  are  best  entitled  to  my 
notice  by  their  own  merit  and  reputation,  or  by  the  deep 
impression  which  they  have  left  on  my  mind.  Yet  I  will 
embrace  this  occasion  of  recommending  to  the  young 
student  a  practice,  which  about  this  time  I  myself 
adopted.  After  glancing  my  eye  over  the  design  and 
order  of  a  new  book,  I  suspended  the  perusal  till  I  had 
finished  the  task  of  self-examination,  till  I  had  revolved, 
in  a  solitary  walk,  all  that  I  knew  or  believed,  or  had 
thought  on  the  subject  of  the  whole  work,  or  of  some  parti- 
cular chapter :  I  was  then  qualified  to  discern  how  much 
the  author  added  to  my  original  stock  ;  and  I  was  some- 
times satisfied  by  the  agreement,  I  was  sometimes  armed 
by  the  opposition  of  our  ideas.  The  favourite  compa- 
nions of  my  leisure  were  our  English  writers  since  the 
Revolution  :  they  breathe  the  spirit  of  reason  and  liberty; 
and  the  most  seasonable  contributed  to  restore  the  purity 
of  my  own  language,  which  had  been  corrupted  by  the 
long  use  of  a  foreign  idiom.  By  the  judicious  advice  of 
Mr  Mallet,  I  was  directed  to  the  writings  of  Swift  and 
Addison ;  wit  and  simplicity  are  their  common  attributes ; 
but  the  style  of  Swift  is  supported  by  manly  original 
vigour  ;  that  of  Addison  is  adorned  by  the  female  graces 


114    M'SELLE  CURCHOD— AFTERWARDS  MADAME  NECKER. 


of  elegance  and  mildness.  The  old  reproach,  that  no 
British  altars  had  been  raised  to  the  muse  of  history,  was 
recently  disproved  by  the  first  performances  of  Robertson 
and  Hume,  the  histories,  of  Scotland  and  of  the  Stuarts. 
I  will  assume  the  presumption  of  saying,  that  I  was  not 
unworthy  to  read  them :  nor  will  I  disguise  my  different 
feelings  in  the  repeated  perusals.  The  perfect  composi- 
tion, the  nervous  language,  the  well-tuned  periods  of  Dr. 
Robertson,  inflamed  me  to  the  ambitious  hope  that  1 
might  one  day  tread  in  his  footsteps  :  the  calm  philosophy, 
the  careless  inimitable  beauties  of  his  friend  and  rival, 
often  forced  me  to  close  the  volume  with  a  mixed  sensa- 
tion of  delight  and  despair. 


CHAP.  XIII. 

MR.  GIBBON  PUBLISHES  HIS  FIRST  WORK. 

The  design  of  my  first  work,  the  Essay  on  the  Study 
of  Literature,  was  suggested  by  a  refinement  of  vanity, 
the  desire  of  justifying  and  praising  the  object  of  a  favour- 
ite pursuit.  In  France,  to  which  my  ideas  were  con- 
fined, the  learning  and  language  of  Greece  and  Rome 
were  neglected  by  a  philosophic  age.  The  guardian  of 
those  studies,  the  Academy  of  Inscriptions,  was  degraded 
to  the  lowest  r'ank  among  the  three  royal  societies  of 
Paris :  the  new  appellation  of  Erudits  was  contemptuously 
applied  to  the  successors  of  Lipsius  and  Casaubon ;  and 
I  was  provoked  to  hear  (see  M.  d'Alembert,  Discours 
preliminaire  a  TEncyclopedie)  that  the  exercise  of  the 
memory,  their  sole  merit,  had  been  superseded  by  the 
nobler  faculties  of  the  imagination  and  the  judgment.  I 
was  ambitious  of  proving  by  my  own  example,  as  well 
as  by  my  precepts,  that  all  the  faculties  of  the  mind  may 
be  exercised  and  displayed  by  the  study  of  ancient  litera- 
ture :  I  began  to  select  and  adorn  the  various  proofs  and 
illustrations  which  had  offered  themselves  in  reading  the 
classics ;  and  the  first  pages  or  chapters  of  my  essay 
were  composed  before  my  departure  from  Lausanne. 
The  hurry  of  the  journey,  and  of  the  first  weeks  of  my 
English  life,  suspended  all  thoughts  of  serious  applica- 


116 


MR.  GIBBON  PUBLISHES  HIS  FIRST  WORK. 


tion  :  but  my  object  was  ever  before  my  eyes  ;  and  no 
more  than  ten  days,  from  the  first  to  the  eleventh  of  July, 
were  suffered  to  elapse  after  my  summer  establishment 
at  Buriton.  My  essay  was  finished  in  about  six  weeks  ; 
and  as  soon  as  a  fair  copy  had  been  transcribed  by  one 
of  the  French  prisoners  atPetersfield,  I  looked  round  for  a 
critic  and  judge  of  my  first  performance.  A  writer  can 
seldom  be  content  with  the  doubtful  recompense  of  soli- 
tary approbation;  but  a  youth,  ignorant  of  the  world  and 
of  himself,  must  desire  to  weigh  his  talents  in  some  scales 
less  partial  than  his  own :  my  conduct  was  natural,  my 
motive  laudible,  my  choice  of  Dr.  Maty  judicious  and 
fortunate.  By  descent  and  education  Dr.  Maty,  though 
born  in  Holland,  might  be.  considered  as  a  Frenchman ;  but 
he  was  fixed  in  London  by  the  practice  of  physic,  and  an 
office  in  the  British  Museum.  His  reputation  was  justly 
founded  on  the  eighteen  volumes  of  the  Journal  Britan- 
nique,  which  he  had  supported,  almost  alone,  with  perse- 
verance and  success.  This  humble  though  useful  labour, 
which  had  once  been  dignified  by  the  genius  of  Bayle 
and  the  learning  of  Le  Clerc,  was  not  disgraced  by  the 
taste,  the  knowledge,  and  the  judgment  of  Maty :  he 
exhibits  a  candid  and  pleasing  view  of  the  state  of  litera- 
ture in  England  during  a  period  of  six  years  (January, 
1750 — December,  1755) ;  and,  far  different  from  his 
angry  son,  he  handles  the  rod  of  criticism  with  the  ten- 
derness and  reluctance  of  a  parent.  The  author  of  the 
Joui'nal  Britannique  sometimes  aspires  to  the  character 
of  a  poet  and  philosopher :  his  style  is  pure  and  elegant ; 
and  in  his  virtues,  or  even  in  his  defects,  he  may  be 
ranked  as  one  of  the  last  disciples  of  the  school  of  Fon- 


MB.  GIBBON  PUBLISHES  HIS  FIRST  WORK 


117 


tenelle.  His  answer  to  my  first  letter  was  prompt  and 
polite :  after  a  careful  examination  he  returned  my  manu- 
script, with  some  animadversion  and  much  applanse  ;  and 
when  I  visited  London  in  the  ensuing  winter,  we  dis- 
cussed the  design  and  execution  in  several  free  and  fami- 
liar conversations.  In  a  short  excursion  to  Buriton  1 
reviewed  my  essay,  according  to  his  friendly  advice ; 
and  after  suppressing  a  third,  adding  a  third,  and  altering 
a  third,  I  consummated  my  first  labour  by  a  short  pre- 
face, which  is  dated  February  3rd,  1759.  Yet  I  still 
shrunk  from  the  press  with  the  terrors  of  virgin  modesty: 
the  manuscript  was  safely  deposited  in  my  desk ;  and  as 
my  attention  was  engaged  by  new  objects,  the  delay 
might  have  been  prolonged  till  I  had  fulfilled  the  precept 
of  Horace,  "nonumque  prematur  in  annum."  Father 
Sirmund,  a  learned  Jesuit,  was  still  more  rigid,  since  he 
advised  a  young  friend  to  expect  the  mature  age  of  fifty, 
before  he  gave  himself  or  his  writings  to  the  public. 
(Olivet,  Histoire  de  I'Academie  Frangaise  torn.  ii.  p. 
143.)  The  counsel  was  singular;  but  it  is  still  more  sin- 
gular that  it  should  have  been  approved  by  the  example 
of  the  author.  Sirmond  was  himself  fifty-five  years  of 
age  when  he  published  (in  1614)  his  first  work,  an  edi- 
tion of  Sidonius  Apollinaris,  with  many  valuable  annota- 
tions. (See  his  life,  before  the  great  edition  of  his  works 
in  five  volumes  folio,  Paris,  1696,  e  Typographic  Regia). 

Two  years  elapsed  in  silence :  but  in  the  spring  of 
1761  I  yielded  to  the  authority  of  a  parent,  and  compiled, 
like  a  pious  son,  with  the  wish  of  my  own  heart.*  My 

Journal,  March  8th,  1758.] — I  began  my  Essay  on  the  Study  of  Litera- 
ture, and  wrote  the  first  twenty-three  chapters  (excepting  the  following 
onea,  11,  12.  13, 18,  19,  20,  21, 22)  before  I  left  Switzerland. 


113  MR.  GIBBON  TUBLISHES  HIS  FIRST  WORK- 

private  resolves  were  influenced  by  the  state  of  Europe. 
About  this  time  the  belligerent  powers  had  made  and 
accepted  overtures  of  peace ;  our  English  plenipoten- 
tiaries were  named  to  assist  at  the  Congress  of  Augs- 
burg, which  never  met ;  I  wished  to  attend  them  as  a 
gentleman  or  a  secretary  ;  and  my  father  fondly  beheved 
that  the  proof  of  some  literary  talents  might  introduce  me 
to  public  notice,  and  second  the  recommendations  of  my 
friends.  After  a  last  revisal,  I  consulted  with  Mr  Mallet 
and  Dr.  Maty,  who  approved  the  design,  and  promoted 
the  execution.  Mr.  Mallet,  after  hearing  me  read  my 
manuscript,  received  it  from  my  hands,  and  delivered  it 
into  those  of  Becket,  with  whom  he  made  an  agreement 
in  my  name  ;  an  easy  agreement :  I  required  only  a  cer- 
tain number  of  copies  ;  and,  without  transferring  my 
property,  I  devolved  on  the  bookseller  the  charges  and 

July  11  th.] — I  again  took  in  hand  my  Essay  ;  and  in  about  six  weeks 
finished  it,  from  C.  23—55  (excepting  27,  23,  39,  30,  31,  32,  33,  and  note  to 
C.  88)  besides  a  number  of  chapters  from  C.  55  to  the  end,  which  are  now 
struck  out. 

Feb.  II,  1759.] — I  wrote  the  chapters  of  my  Essay,  27,  28,  29,  30,  31, 
the  note  to  C.  33,  and  the  first  part  of  the  preface. 

April  23,  1761.] — Being  at  length,  by  my  father's  advice,  determined  to 
publish  my  essay,  I  revised  it  with  great  care,  made  many  alterations,  struck 
out  a  considerable  part,  and  wrote  the  chapters  from  57 — 58,  wliich  I  was 
obliged  myself  to  copy  out  fair, 

Jane  10th,  1761.] — Finding  the  printing  of  my  book  proceeded  but 
slowly,  I  went  up  to  town,  where  I  found  the  whole  was  finished.  I  gavo 
Becket  orders  for  the  presents  ;  twenty  for  Lausanne;  copies  for  the  Duke 
of  Richmond,  Marquis  of  Carnarvon,  Lords  Waldegrave,  Litchfiefd,  Batfa, 
Granville,  Bute,  Shelbume,  Chesterfield,  Hardwicke,  Lady  Hervcy,  Sir 
Joseph  Yorke,  Sir  Matthew  Featherstone,  Messieurs  Mallet,  Maty,  Scott, 
Wray,  Lord  Egremont,  M.  de  Bussy,  Mademoiselle  la  Duchesse  d'Aiguillon, 
and  M.  le  Compte  de  Caylus ; — great  part  of  these  were  only  nay  father's  or 
Mallet's  acquaintance. 


MB.  GIBBON  PUBLISHES  HIS  FIRST  WORK.  119 


profits  of  the  edition.  Dr.  Maty  undertook,  in  my  ab- 
sence, to  correct  the  sheets :  he  inserted,  without  my 
knowledge,  an  elegant  and  flattering  epistle  to  the  author; 
which  is  composed,  however,  with  so  much  art,  that,  in 
case  of  a  defeat,  his  favourite  report  might  have  been 
ascribed  to  the  indulgence  of  a  friend  for  the  rash  attempt 
of  a  young  English  gentleman.  The  work  was  printed 
and  published,  under  the  title  of  Essai  sar  I'Etude  de  la 
Litterature,  a  Londres,  chez  T.  Becket  et  P.  A.  de  Hondt, 
1761,  in  a  small  volume  in  duodecimo:  my  dedication  to 
my  father,  a  proper  and  pious  address,  was  composed  the 
twenty-eighth  of  May:  Dr.  Maty's  letter  is  dated  the  16th 
of  June;  and  I  received  the  first  copy  (June  23)  at  Al- 
resford,  two  days  before  I  marched  with  the  Hampshire 
militia.  Some  weeks  afterwards,  on  the  same  ground,  I 
presented  my  book  to  the  late  Duke  of  York,  who  break- 
fasted in  Colonel  Pitt's  tent.  By  my  father's  direction, 
and  Mallet's  advice,  many  literary  gifts  were  distributed 
to  several  eminent  characters  in  England  and  France ; 
two  books  were  sent  to  the  Compte  de  Caylus,  and  the 
Duchesse  d'Auiguillon,  at  Paris ;  I  had  reserved  twenty 
copies  for  my  friends  at  Lausanne,  as  the  first  fruits  of 
my  education,  and  a  grateful  token  of  my  remembrance  : 
and  on  all  these  persons  I  levied  an  unavoidable  tax  of 
civility  and  compliment.  It  is  not  surprising  that  a  work, 
of  which  the  style  and  sentiments  were  so  totally  foreign, 
should  have  been  more  s-uccessful  abroad  than  at  home. 
I  was  delighted  by  the  copious  extracts,  the  warm  com- 
mendations, and  the  flattering  predictions  of  the  jouraals 
of  France  and  Holland;  and  the  next  year  (1762)  a  new 
edition  (I  believe  at  Geneva)  extended  the  fame,  or  ai 


120 


MB.  GIBBON  PUBLISHES  HIS  FIRST  WORK. 


least  the  circulation  of  the  work.  In  England  it  was 
received  with  cold  indifference,  little  read,  and  speedily 
forgotten  :  a  small  impression  was  slowly  dispersed  ;  the 
bookseller  murmured,  and  the  author,  had  his  feelings 
been  more  exquisite,  might  have  wept  over  the  blunders 
and  boldness  of  the  English  translation.  The  publication 
of  my  history  fifteen  years  afterwards  revived  the  me- 
mory  of  my  first  performance,  and  the  essay  was  eagerly 
sought  in  the  shops.  But  I  refused  the  permission  which 
Becket  solicited  of  reprinting  it :  the  public  curiosity  was 
imperfectly  satisfied  by  a  pirated  copy  of  the  booksellers 
of  Dublin  ;  and  when  a  copy  of  the  origininal  edition  has 
been  discovered  in  a  sale,  the  primitive  value  of  half  a 
crown  has  risen  to  the  fanciful  price  of  a  guinea  or  thirty 
shillings. 

I  have  expatiated  on  the  petty  circumstances  and 
period  of  my  first  publication,  a  memorable  aera  in  the 
life  of  a  student,  when  he  ventures  to  reveal  the  measure 
of  his  mind :  his  hopes  and  fears  are  multiplied  by  the 
idea  of  self-importance,  and  he  believes  for  a  while  that 
ihe  eyes  of  mankind  are  fixed  on  his  person  and  per- 
formance. Whatever  may  be  my  present  reputation,  it 
no  longer  rests  on  the  merit  of  this  first  essay ;  and  at 
the  end  of  twenty-eight  years  I  may  appreciate  my 
juvenile  work  with  the  impartiality,  and  almost  with  the 
indifference,  of  a  stranger.  In  his  answer  to  Lady 
Hervey,  the  Corate  de  Caylus  admires,  or  affects  to  ad- 
mire, "  les  livres  sans  nombre  que  Mr.  Gibbon  a  lus  et 
tres  bien  lus*."  But,  alas !  my  stock  of  erudition  at  that 
time  was  scanty  and  superficial ;  and,  if  I  allow  myself 

*  See  Letter,  No.  X. 


MR  GIBBON  rUBLISFIES  HIS  FIRST  WORK.  121 


the  liberty  of  naming  the  Greek  masters,  my  genuine  and 
personal  acquaintance  was  confined  to  the  Latin  classics. 
The  most  serious  defect  of  my  Essay  is  a  kind  of  ob- 
scurity and  abruptness  which  always  fatigues,  and  may 
often  elude,  the  attention  of  the  reader.    Instead  of  a 
precise  and  proper  definition  of  the  title  itself,  the  sense 
of  the  word  Litterature  is  loosely  and  variously  applied : 
a  number  of  remarks  and  examples,  historical,  critical, 
philosophical,  are  heaped  on  each  other  without  method 
or  connection :  and  if  we  except  some  introductory 
pages,  all  the  remaining  chapters  might  indifferently  be 
reversed  or  transposed.    The  obscurity  of  many  pas- 
sages is  often  affected,  "brevis  esse  laboro,  obscurus  fio;" 
the  desire  of  expressing  perhaps  a  common  idea  w^ith 
sententious  and  oracular  brevity :   alas  !  how  fatal  has 
been  the  imitation  of  Montesquieu !    But  this  obscurity 
sometimes  proceeds  from  a  mixture  of  light  and  darkness 
m  the  author's  mind ;  from  a  partial  ray  which  strikes 
upon  an  angle,  instead  of  spreading  itself  over  the  surface 
of  an  object.    After  this  fair  confession  I  shall  presume 
to  say,  that  the  Essay  does  credit  to  a  young  writer  of 
two  and  twenty  years  of  age,  who  had  read  with  taste, 
who  thinks  with  freedom,  and  who  writes  in  a  foreign 
language  with  spirit  and  elegance.    The  defence  of  the 
early  History  of  Rome  and  the  iN'ew  Chronology  of  Sir 
Isaac  Newton  form  a  specious  argument.    The  patriotic 
and  political  design  of  the  Georgics  is  happily  conceived  ; 
and  any  probable  conjecture,  which  tends  to  raise  the 
dignity  of  the  poet  and  the  poem,  deserves  to  be  adopted, 
without  a  rigid  scrutiny.    Some  dawnings  of  a  philo- 
sophic spirit  enlighten  the  geliferal  remarks  on  the  study 
of  history  and  of  man.    I  am  not  displeased  with  the  in- 
quiry mio  the  origin  and  nature  of  the  gods  of  polytheism, 


1C2  MR.  GIBBON  PUBLISHES  HIS  FIRST  WORK. 


M'hich  might  deserve  the  illustration  of  a  riper  judgment. 
Upon  the  whole,  I  may  apply  to  the  first  labour  of  my 
pen  the  speech  of  a  far  superior  artist,  when  he  surveyed 
the  first  productions  of  his  pencil.  After  viewing  some 
portraits  w'hich  he  had  painted  in  his  youth,  my  friend 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  acknowledged  to  me,  that  he  was 
rather  humbled  than  flattered  by  the  comparison  with  his 
present  works ;  and  that  after  so  much  time  and  study, 
he  had  conceived  his  improvement  to  be  much  greater 
than  he  found  it  to  have  been. 

At  Lausanne  I  composed  the  first  chapters  of  my 
Essay  in  French,  the  Familiar  language  of  my  conver- 
sation and  studies,  in  which  it  was  easier  for  me  to  write 
than  in  my  mother-tongue.    After  my  return  to  England 
I  continued  the  same  practice,  without  any  affectation,  or 
design  of  repudiating  (as  Dr.  Bentley  would  say)  my  ver- 
nacular idiom.    But  I  should  have  escaped  some  anti- 
gallican  clamour,  had  I  been  content  with  the  more  na- 
tural character  of  an  English  author.    I  should  have 
been  more  consistent  had  I  rejected  Mallet's  advice,  of 
prefixing  an  English  dedication  to  a  French  book;  a 
confusion  of  tongues  that  seemed  to  accuse  the  ignorance 
of  my  patron.    The  use  of  a  foreign  dialect  might  be  ex- 
cused by  the  hope  of  being  employed  as  a  negotiator,  by 
the  desire  of  being  generally  understood  on  the  Continent ; 
but  my  true  motive  was  doubtless  the  ambition  of  new 
and  singular  fame,  an  Englishman  claiming  a  place  among 
the  writers  of  France.    The  Latin  tongue  had  been  con- 
secrated by  the  service  of  the  church,  it  was  refined  by 
the  imitation  of  the  ancients ;  and  in  the  fifteenth  and 
sixteenth  centuries  the  scholars  of  Europe  enjoyed  the 
advantage,  which  they  gradually  resigned,  of  conver- 
sing and  writing  in  a  common  and  learned  idiom.    As  that 


MR.  GIBBON  PUBLISHES  HIS 'FIRST  WORK. 


123 


idiom  was  no  longer  in  any  country  the  vulgar  speech, 
they  all  stood  on  a  level  with  each  other ;  yet  a  citizen 
of  old  Rome  might  have  smiled  at  the  best  Latinity  of 
the  Germans  and  Britons :  and  we  may  learn  from  the 
Ciceronianus  of  Erasmus,  how  difficult  it  was  found  to 
steer  a  middle  course  between  pedantry  and  barbarism. 
The  Romans  themselves  had   sometimes  attempted  a 
more  perilous  task,  of  writing  in  a  living  language,  and 
appealing  to  the  taste   and  judgment  of  the  natives. 
The  vanity  of  Tully  was  doubly  interested   in  the 
Greek  memoirs  of  his  own  consulship  ;  and  if  he  modestly 
supposes  that  some  Latinisms  might  be  detected  in  his  style, 
he  is  confident  of  his  own  skill  in  the  art  of  Isocrates  and 
Aristotle ;  and  he  requests  his  friend  Atticus  to  disperse 
the  copies  of  his  work  at  Athens,  and  in  the  other  cities 
of  Greece.    (Ad  Atticum,  i.  19,  ii.  1.)    But  it  must  not 
be  forgotten,  that  from  infancy  to  manhood  Cicero  and 
his  contemporaries  had  read,  and  declaimed,  and  com-t 
posed  with  equal  diligence  in  both  languages ;  and  that 
he  was  not  allowed  to  frequent  a  Latin  school  till  he  had 
imbibed  the  lessons  of  the  Greek  grammarians  and  rhe- 
toricians.   In  modern  times,  the  language  of  France  has 
been  diffused  by  the  merit  of  her  writers,  the  social 
manners  of  the  natives,  the  influence  of  the  monarchy, 
and  the  exile  of  the  Protestants.    Several  foreigners  have 
seized  the  opportunity  of  speaking  to  Europe  in  this 
common  dialect,  and  Germany  may  p^d  the  authority 
of  Leibnitz  and  Frederick,  of  the  first  of  her  pliilosophers, 
and  the  greatest  of  her  kings.    The  just  pride  and  laud- 
able prejudice  of  England  has  restrained  this  communi- 
cation of  idioms ;  and  of  all  the  nations  on  this  side  of 
the  Alps,  my  countrymen  are  the  least  practiced  and 
least  perfect  in  the  exercise  of  the  French  tongue.  By 


124 


MR.  GIBBON  PUBLISHES  HIS  FIRST  WORK. 


Sir  William  Temple  and  Lord  Chesterfield  it  was  only 
used  on  occasions  of  civility  and  business,  and  their 
printed  letters  will  not  be  quoted  as  models  of  composi- 
tion. Lord  Bolingbroke  may  have  pubUshed  in  French  a 
sketch  of  his  Reflections  on  Earle :  but  his  reputation 
now  reposes  on  the  address  of  Voltaire,  "  Docte  sermones 
utriusque  linguae ;"  and  by  his  English  dedication  to 
Queen  Caroline,  and  his  Essay  on  Epic  Poetry,  it  should 
seem  that  Voltaire  himself  wished  to  deserve  a  return 
of  the  same  compliment.  The  exception  of  Count 
Hamilton  cannot  fairly  be  urged ;  though  an  Irishman 
by  birth,  he  was  educated  in  France  from  his  childhood. 
Yet  I  am  surprised  that  a  long  residence  in  England, 
and  the  habits  of  domestic  conversation,  did  not  affect 
the  ease  and  purity  of  his  inimitable  style  ;  and  I  regret 
the  omission  of  his  English  verses,  which  might  have 
afTordcd  an  amusing  object  of  comparison.  1  might 
therefore  assume  the  primus  ego  in  patriam,  ^c. ;  but 
with  what  success  I  have  explored  this  untrodden  path 
must  be  left  to  the  decision  of  my  French  readers.  Dr. 
Maty,  who  might  himself  be  questioned  as  a  foreigner, 
has  secured  his  retreat  at  my  expense.  "  Je  ne  crois 
pas  que  vous  vous  piquiez  d'6tre  moins  facile  a  recon- 
naitre  pour  un  Anglais  que  LucuUus  pour  un  Romain.** 
My  friends  at  Paris  have  been  more  indulgent,  they  re- 
ceived me  as  a  countryman,  or  at  least  as  a  provincial ; 
but  they  were  friends  and  Parisians.  The  defects 
which  Maty  insmuates,  "  Ces  traits  saillans,  ces  figures 
hardies,  ce  sacrifice  de  la  regie  au  sentiment,  et  de  la  ca- 
dence a  la  force,"  are  the  faults  of  the  youth,  rather  than 
of  the  stranger :  and  after  the  long  and  laborious  exer- 
cise of  my  own  language,  I  am  conscious  that  my  French 
style  has  been  ripened  and  improved. 


CHAP.  XIV. 


THE  AUTHOR  IN  THE  HAMPSHIRE  MILITIA. 

I  have  already  hinted,  that  the  publication  of  my 
Essay  was  delayed  till  I  had  embraced  the  military  pro- 
fession. I  shall  now  amuse  myself  with  the  recollec- 
tion of  an  active  scene,  which  bears  no  affinity  to  any 
other  period  of  my  studious  and  social  life. 

In  the  outset  of  a  glorious  war,  the  English  people  had 
been  defended  by  the  aid  of  German  mercenaries.  A 
national  militia  has  been  the  cry  of  every  patriot  since 
the  Revolution ;  and  this  measure,  both  in  parliament  and 
in  the  field,  was  supported  by  the  country  gentlemen  or 
Tories,  who  insensibly  transferred  their  loyalty  to  the 
house  of  Hanover :  in  the  language  of  Mr.  Burke,  they 
have  changed  the  idol,  but  they  have  preserved  the 
idolatry.  In  the  act  of  offering  our  names  and  receiv- 
ing our  commissions,  as  major  and  captain  in  the  Hamp- 
shire regiment,  (June  12th,  1759,)  we  had  not  supposed 
that  we  should  be  dragged  away,  my  father  from  his 
farm,  myself  from  my  books,  and  condemned  during  two 
years  and  a  half,  (May  10,  1760— December  23,  1762,) 
to  a  wandering  life  of  military  servitude.  But  a  weekly 
or  monthly  exercise  of  thirty-thousand  provincials  would 
have  left  them  useless  and  ridiculous ;  and  after  the  pre- 
tence of  an  invasion  had  vanished,  the  popularity  of  Mr. 


126         THE  AUTHOR  IN  THE  HAMPSHIRK  MILITIA. 


Pitt  gave  a  sanction  to  the  illegal  step  of  keeping  them 
till  the  end  of  the  war  under  arms,  in  constant  pay  and 
duty,  and  at  a  distance  from  their  respective  homes. 
When  the  King's  order  for  our  embodying  came  down, 
it  was  too  late  to  retreat,  and  too  soon  to  repent.  The 
South  battalion  of  the  Hampshire  militia  was  a  small  in- 
dependent corps  of  four  hundred  and  seventy-six,  officers 
and  men,  commanded  by  lieutenant-colonel  Sir  Thomas 
Worsley,  who,  after  a  prolix  and  passionate- contest,  de- 
livered us  from  the  tyranny  of  the  lord  lieutenant,  the 
Duke  of  Bolton.  My  proper  station,  as  first  captain, 
was  at  the  head  of  my  own,  and  afterwards  of  the  gre- 
nadier company ;  but  in  the  absence,  or  even  in  the 
presence,  of  the  two  field  officers,  I  was  entrusted  by  my 
friend  and  my  father  with  the  effective  labour  of  dicta- 
ting the  orders,  and  exercising  the  battalion.  With  the 
help  of  an  original  journal,  I  could  write  the  history  of 
my  bloodless  and  inglorious  campaigns ;  but  as  these 
events  have  lost  much  of  their  importance  in  my  own 
eyes,  they  shall  be  dispatched  in  a  few  words. 

From  Winchester,  the  first  place  of  assembly,  (June  4, 
1760,)  we  were  removed,  at  our  own  request,  for  the 
benefit  of  a  foreign  education.  By  the  arbitrary,  and 
often  capricious,  orders  of  the  War-office,  the  battalion 
successively  marched  to  the  pleasant  and  hospitable 
Blandford  (June  17) ;  to  tlilsea  barracks,  a  seat  of  di- 
sease and  discord  (September  1)  ;  to  Cranbrook  in  the 
Weald  of  Kent  (December  11) ;  to  the  sea-coast  of  Dover 
(December  27) ;  to  Winchester  camp  (June  25,  1761)  ; 
to  the  populous  and  disorderly  town  of  Devizes  (October 
23);  to  Salisbury  (February  28,  1762);  to  our  beloved 


THE  AUTHOR  IN  THE  HAMPSHIRE  MILITIA.  TQ7 


Blandford  a  second  time  (March  9) ;  and  finally,  to  the 
fashionable  resort  of  Southampton  (June  2) ;  where  the 
colours  were  fixed  till  our  final  dissolution  (December 
23).  On  the  beach  at  Dover  we  had  exercised  in  sight  of 
the  Gallic  shores.  But  the  most  splendid  and  useful 
scene  of  our  life  was  a  four  months  encampment  on  Win- 
chester Down,  under  the  command  of  the  Earl  of  Effing- 
ham. Our  army  consisted  of  the  thirty-fourth  regiment 
of  foot  and  six  militia  corps.  The  consciousness  of  our 
defects  was  stimulated  by  friendly  emulation.  We  im- 
proved our  time  and  opportunities  in  morning  and  even- 
ing field  days:  and  in  the  general  reviews  the  South 
Hampshire  were  rather  a  credit  than  a  disgrace  to  the 
line.  In  our  subsequent  quarters  of  the  Devizes  and 
Blandford,  we  advanced  with  a  quick  step  in  our  military 
st,udies ;  the  ballot  of  the  ensuing  summer  renewed  oui; 
vigour  and  youth  ;  and  had  the  militia  subsisted  another 
year,  we  might  have  contested  the  prize  with  the  most 
perfect  of  our  brethren. 

The  loss  of  so  many  busy  and  idle  hours  was  not  com- 
pensated by  any  elegant  pleasure ;  and  my  temper  was 
insensibly  soured  by  the  society  of  our  rustic  officers.  In 
every  state  there  exists,  however,  a  balance  of  good  and 
evil.  The  habits  of  a  sedentary  life  were  usefully  broken 
by  the  duties  of  an  active  profession :  in  the  healthful 
exercise  of  the  field  I  hunted  with  a  batallion,  instead  of 
a  pack ;  and  at  that  time  I  was  ready  at  any  hour  of  the 
day  or  night,  to  fly  from  quarters  to  London,  from  Lon- 
don to  quarters,  on  the  slightest  call  of  private  or  regi- 
mental business.  But  my  principal  obligation  to  the 
militia,  was  the  making  me  an  Englishman  and  a  soldier. 


128  THE  AUTIIOE  IN  THE  HAMPSHIRE  MILITIA. 


After  my  foreign  education,  with  my  reserved  temper,  I 
should  long  have  continued  a  stranger  in  my  native  coun- 
try, had  I  not  been  shaken  in  this  various  scene  of  new 
faces  and  new  friends :  had  not  experience  forced  me  to 
feel  the  characters  of  our  leading  men,  the  state  of  parties, 
the  forms  of  office,  and  the  operation  of  our  civil  and 
military  system.  In  this  peaceful  service,  I  imbibed  the 
rudiments  of  the  language  and  science  of  tactics,  which 
opened  a  new  field  of  study  and  observation,  I  diligently 
read,  and  meditated,  the  Memoires  Militaires  of  Quintus 
Icilius,  (Mr.  Guichardt),  the  only  writer  who  has  united 
the  merits  of  a  professor  and  a  veteran.  The  discipline 
and  evolutions  of  a  modern  battalion  gave  me  a  clearer 
notion  of  the  phalanx  and  the  legion ;  and  the  captain  of 
the  Hampshire  grenadiers  (the  reader  may  smile)  has 
not  been  useless  to  the  historian  of  the  Roman  empire. 

A  youth  of  any  spirit  is  fired  even  by  the  play  of  arms, 
and  in  the  first  sallies  of  my  enthusiasm  I  had  seriously 
attempted  to  embrace  the  regular  profession  of  a  soldier. 
But  this  military  fever  was  cooled  by  the  enjoyment  of 
our  mimic  Bellona,  who  soon  unveiled  to  my  eyes  her 
naked  deformity.  How  often  did  I  sigh  for  my  proper 
station  in  society  and  letters.  How  often  (a  proud  com- 
parison) did  I  repeat  the  complaint  of  Cicero  in  the  com- 
mand of  a  provincial  army  :  "  Clitellse  bovi  sunt  impositse. 
Est  incredibile  quam  me  negotii  tjedeat.  Non  habet 
satis  magnum  campum  ille  tibi  non  ignotus  cursus  animi ; 
et  industrisB  meae  pra^clara  opera  ccssat.  Lucem,  libros, 
urbem,  domum,  vos  desidero.  Sed  feram,  ut  potero ;  sit 
modo  annum.    Si  prorogatur,  actum  est-"*    From  a  ser- 

*  Epifit.  ad  Atticum,  lib.  v.  15. 


THE  AUTHOR  IN  THE  HAMPSHIRE  MILITIA.  123 


vice  without  danger,  I  might  indeed  have  retired  without 
disgrace ;  but  as  often  as  I  hinted  a  wish  of  resigning, 
my  fetters  were  riveted  by  the  friendly  entreaties  of  the 
colonel,  the  parental  authority  of  the  major,  and  my  own 
regard  for  the  honour  and  welfare  of  the  battalion. 
When  I  felt  that  my  personal  escape  was  impracticable, 
I  bowed  my  neck  to  the  yoke :  ray  servitude  was  pro- 
tracted far  beyond  the  annual  patience  of  Cicero ;  and  it 
was  not  till  after  the  preliminaries  of  peace  that  I 
received  my  discharge  from  the  act  of  government 
which  disembodied  the  militia.* 

•Journal,  January  11,  1761.] — In  these  seven  or  eight  months  of  a  most 
disagreeably  active  life,  I  have  had  no  studies  to  set  down  :  indeed,  I  hardly 
took  a  book  in  my  hand  the  whole  time.  The  first  two  months  at  Bland- 
ford,  I  might  have  done  something;  but  the  novelty  of  the  thing,  of  which 
for  some  time  I  was  so  fond  as  to  think  of  going  into  the  ai-my,  our  field 
days,  our  dinners  abroad,  and  the  drinking  and  late  hours  we  got  into,  pre- 
vented any  serious  reflections.  From  the  day  we  marched  from  Bland- 
ford  I  had  hardly  a  moment  I  could  call  my  own,  almost  continualTy  in 
motion ;  if  I  was  fixed  for  a  day,  it  was  in  the  guard  room,  a  barrack,  or  an 
inn.  Our  disputes  consumed  the  little  time  I  had  left.  Every  letter,  every 
memorial  relative  to  them  fell  to  my  share  ;  and  our  evening  conferences 
were  used  to  hear  all  the  morning  hours  strike.  At  last  I  got  to  Dover 
and  Sir  Thomas  left  us  for  two  months.  The  charm  was  over,  I  was  sick 
of  so  hateful  a  service  ;  I  was  settled  in  a  comparatively  quiet  situation. 
Once  more  I  began  to  taste  the  pleasure  of  thinking. 

Recollecting  some  thoughts  I  had  formerly  had  in  relation  to  the  system 
of  Paganism,  which  I  intended  to  make  use  of  in  my  Essay,  I  resolved  to 
read  Tully  de  Natura  Deorum,  and  finished  it  in  about  a  month.  I  lost 
some  time  before  1  could  recover  my  habit  of  application. 

October  23rd.] — Our  first  design  was  to  march  to  Marlborough  ;  but  find- 
ing on  inquiry  that  it  was  a  bad  road  and  a  great  way  about,  we  resolved  to 
push  for  the  Devizes  in  one  day,  though  nearly  thirty  miles.  We  accord- 
ingly arrived  there  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 

Nov.  2ad.]— I  have  very  little  to  say  for  this  and  the  following  month. 


130         THE  AUTHOR  IN  THE  HAMrSHlRE  MILITIA. 


When  I  complain  of  the  loss  of  time,  justice  to  myself 
and  to  the  militia  must  throw  the  greatest  part  of  that 

Nothing  could  be  more  uniform  than  the  life  I  led  there.  The  little  civdlity 
of  the  neighboring  gentlemen  gave  us  no  opportunity  of  dining  out ;  the 
time  of  year  did  not  tempt  us  to  any  excursions  round  the  country;  and  at 
first  my  indolence,  and  afterwards  a  violent  cold,  prevented  my  going  over 
to  Bath.  I  believe  in  the  two  months  I  never  dined  or  lay  from  quarters. 
I  can  therefore  only  set  down  what  I  did  in  the  Uterary  way.  Designing  to 
recover  my  Greek,  which  I  bad  somewhat  neglected,  I  set  myself  to  read 
Homer,  and  finished  the  four  first  books  of  the  Iliad,  with  Pope's  translation 
and  notes ;  at  the  same  time,  to  understand  the  geography  of  the  Iliad,  and 
particularly  the  catalogue,  I  read  the  8th,  9th,  10th,  11th,  12th,  13ih,  and 
14th  books  of  Strabo,  in  Casaubon's  Latin  translation;  I  likewise  read 
Hume's  History  of  England  to  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Seventh,  just  pub- 
lished, ingenious  but  superficial;  and  the  Journals  deg  Savans,  for  August, 
September,  and  October,  17G1,  with  tlie  Bibliotheque  des  Sciences,  &c. 
from  July  to  October ;  both  these  Journals  speak  very  handsomely  of  my 
book. 

December  25th,  17C1.] — When,  upon  finishing  the  year,  I  take  a  review 
of  what  I  have  done,  I  am  not  dissatisfied  with  wJiat  I  did  in  it,  upon 
making  proper  allowances.  On  the  one  hand,  I  could  begin  nothing  before 
the  middle  of  January.  The  Deal  duty  lost  me  part  of  February;  although 
I  was  at  homo  part  of  March,  and  all  April,  yet  electioneering  is  no  friend  to 
the  Muses.  May,  indeed,  though  dissipated  by  our  sea  parties,  was  pretty 
quiet,  but  June  was  absolutely  lost,  upon  the  march,  at  Alton,  and  settling 
ourselves  in  camp.  The  four  succeeding  months  in  camp  allowed  melittlo 
leisure  and  little  quiet.  November  and  December  were  indeed  as  much  my 
own  as  any  time  can  be  whilst  I  remain  in  the  militia  ;  but  still  it  is,  at 
best,  not  a  life  for  a  man  of  letters.  However,  in  this  tumultuous  year, 
(besides  smaller  things  which  I  have  set  down),  I  read  four  books  of 
Homer  in  Greek,  six  of  Strabo  in  Latin,  Cicero  de  Natura  Deomm,  and  the 
great  p'ai'osophical  and  theological  work  of  M.  de  Beausobre;  I  v\  rote  ia 
the  samtime  along  dissertation  on  the  succession  of  Naples;  reviewed, 
fitted  for  the  press,  and  augmented  above  a  fourth,  my  Essai  surl'Etude  do 
la  Littc'rature. 

In  the  BIX  weeks  I  passed  at  Boriton,  as  I  never  stirred  from  it,  every  day 
was  like  the  former.    I  had  neither  visits,  hunting,  nor  walking.    My  only 


THE  AUTHOR  IN  THE  HAMPSHIRE  MILITIA.  131 


reproach  on  the  first  seven  or  eight  months,  while  I  was 
obliged  to  learn  as  well  as  to  teach.    The  dissipation  of 

resources  were  myself,  my  books,  and  family  conversations. — But  to  me 
tbese  were  great  resources. 

April  24th,  1762.] — I  waited  upon  Colonel  Hervey  in  the  morning,  to 
get  him  to  apply  for  me  to  be  brigade-major  to  Lord  EiSugham,  as  a  post  I 
should  be  very  fond  of,  and  for  which  I  am  not  unfit,  Hervey  received  me 
with  great  good-nature  and  candour,  told  me  he  was  both  willing  and  ablo 
to  serve  me;  that  indeed  be  had  already  applied  to  Lord  Effingham  for 
*****,  one  of  his  own  officers,  and  though  there  would  be  more  than 
one  brigade-major,  he  did  not  thiuk  he  could  properly  recommend  two ; 
but  that  if  I  could  get  some  other  person  to  break  the  ice,  he  would  second 
it,  and  beheved  he  should  succeed ;  should  that  fail,  as  *  *  *  *  *  was  in 
bad  circomstances,  he  believed  he  could  make  a  compromise  with  him 
(this  was  my  desire)  to  let  me  do  the  duty  without  pay.  I  went  from  him 
to  the  Malleis,  who  promised  to  get  Sir  Charles  Howard  to  speak  to  Lord 
Effingham. 

August  22nd.] — I  went  with  Ballard  to  the  French  church  where  I 
heard  a  most  indifferent  sermon  preached  by  M*'****,  A  very  bad  style, 
a  worse  pronunciation  and  action,  and  a  very  great  vacuity  of  ideas,  com- 
posed this  excellent  performance.  Upon  the  whole,  which  is  preferable, 
the  philosophic  method  of  the  English,  or  the  rhetoric  of  the  French 
preachers?  The  first,  (though  less  glorious)  is  certainly  safer  for  the 
preacher.  It  is  difficult  for  a  man  to  make  himself  ridiculous,  who  pro- 
poses only  to  deliver  plain  sense  on  a  subject  he  has  thoroughly  studied. 
But  the  instant  he  discovers  the  least  pretensions  tovrards  the  sublime,  or  the 
pathetic,  there  is  no  medium;  wb  must  either  admire  or  laugh;  and  there 
£U-e  so  many  various  talents  requisite  to  form  the  character  of  an  orator,  that 
it  is  more  than  probable  we  shall  laugh.  As  to  the  advantage  of  the  hearer, 
which  ought  to  be  the  great  consideration,  the  dilemma  is  much  greater. 
Excepting  in  some  particular  cases,  where  we  are  blinded  by  popular  pre- 
judices, we  are  in  general  so  well  acquainted  with  our  duty,  that  it  is 
almost  superfluous  to  convince  us  of  it.  It  is  the  heart,  and  not  the  head, 
that  holds  out :  and  it  is  certainly  "possible,  by  a  moving  eloquence,  to  rouse 
the  sleeping  sentiments  of  that  heart,  and  incite  it  to  acts  of  virtue.  Un- 
luckily it  is  not  so  much  acts,  as  habits  of  virtue,  we  should  have  in  view  ; 
and  the  preacher,  who  is  inculcating,  with  the  eloquence  of  a  Bourdaloue, 


132         THE  AUTHOR  IN  THE  HAMPSHIRE  MILITIA. 


Blandford,  and  the  disputes  of  Portsmouth,  consumed 

the  necessity  of  a  virtuous  life,  ■will  dismiss  his  assembly  full  of  emotions, 
which  a  variety  of  other  objects,  the  coldness  of  our  northern  constitutions, 
and  no  immediate  opportunity  of  exerting  their  good  resolutions,  will  dissi- 
pate in  a  few  moments. 

August  24th.] — The  same  reason  that  carried  so  many  people  to  the  as- 
sembly to-night,  was  what  kept  me  away  ;  I  mean  the  daucing,. 

28th.] — To-day  Sir  Thomas  came  to  us  to  dinner.  Tho  Spa  has  done  him 
a  great  deal  of  good,  for  he  looks  another  man.  Pleased  to  see  him,  we 
kept  bumperizing  till  after  roll-calling  ;  Sir  Thomas  assuring  us,  every  fresh 
bottle,  how  infinitely  sober  lie  was  grown. 

29th.] — I  felt  the  usual  consequences  of  Sir  Thomas's  company,  and  lost 
a  moraing  because  I  had  lost  the  day  before.  However,  having  finished  Vol- 
taire, I  returned  to  Le  Clerc,  (I  mean  for  the  amusement  of  my  leisure 
hours)  ;  and  laid  aside  for  some  time  his  Bibliotheque  Uuiverselle,  to  look 
into  the  Bibliotheque  Choisie,  which  is  by  far  the  better  work. 

September  the  23rd.] — Colonel  Wilkes,  of  the  Buckinghamshire  Militia, 
dined  with  us,  and  renewed  the  acquaintance  Sir  Thomas  and  myself  had 
begun  with  him  at  Reading.  I  scarcely  ever  met  with  a  better  companion; 
he  has  inexhaustible  spirits,  infinite  wit  and  humour,  and  a  great  deal  of 
knowledge.  He  told  us  liiniself,  that  in  this  time  of  pubhc  dissension,  he 
was  resolved  to  make  his  fortune.  Upon  this  pi-iuciple,  he  has  connected 
himself  closely  with  Lord  Temple  and  Mr.  Pitt,  commenced  a  public 
adversary  to  Lord  Bute,  v/hom  he  abuses  weekly  in  the  North  Briton,  and 
other  political  papers  in  which  ho  is  concerned.  This  proved  a  very  de- 
bauched day:  we  drank  a  good  deal  both  after  diuuev  and  supper;  and 
when  at  last  Wilkes  had  retired,  Sir  Thomas  and  some  others  (of  whom  I 
was  not  one)  broke  into  his  room,  and  made  him  drink  a  bottle  of  claret  in 
bed. 

October  5th.] — The  review,  which  lasted  about  three  hours,  concluded, 
.as  usual,  with  marching  by  Lord  Elfingham,  by  grand  divisions.  Upon  the 
whole,  considering  the  camp  had  done  both  tho  \\'iiichester  and  the  Gos- 
■port  duties  all  the  summer,  thoy  behaved  vory  well,  and  mode  a  fine 
appearance.  As  they  marched  by,  1  had  my  usual  curiosity  to  count  their 
files.  The  following  is  my  field  return,  I  tliink  it  a  curiosity;  I  am  sure  h 
is  more  exact  than  is  commonly  made  to  a  reviewing  general. 


THE  AUTHOR  IN  THE  HAMPSHIRE  MILITIA. 


133 


the  hours  wliich  were  not  employed  in  the  field ;  and 


Numbes  of  files.  Number  of  men.  Establishment. 


Berskhire, 
W.  Essex, 
S.  Glo'ster, 
N.  Glo'ster, 
Lancashire, 
Wiltshire, 


Grenadiers,  19 
Battalion,  72 
Grenadiers,  15 
Battalion,  80 
Grenadiers,  20 
Battalion,    84  ^ 
Grenadiers,  13  ) 
Battalion,    52  J 
Grenadiers,  20 
Battalion,  88 
Grenadiers,  24 
Battalion, 


24  I 
120  S 


91 


95 


94 


C5 


108 


144 


273 
285 
312 
195 
324 
432 

1821 


.  560 

.  480 

.  600 

.  360 

.  800 

.  SOO 
3600 


Total,  6077 

N.  B.  The  Gosport  detachment  from  tne  Lancashire  consisted  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  men.  The  Buckinghamshire  took  the  Winchester  duty 
that  day. 

So  that  this  camp  in  England,  supposed  complete,  with  only  one  detach- 
ment, had  under  arms,  on  the  day  of  the  grand  review,  but  little  more  than 
half  their  establishment.  This  amazing  deficiency,  (though  exemplified  in 
every  regiment  I  have  seen)  is  an  extraordinary  military  phenomenon ; 
what  must  it  be  upon  foreign  service  ?  I  doubt  whether  a  nominal  army 
of  a  hundred  thousand  men  often  brings  fifty  into  the  field. 

Upon  our  return  to  Southampton  in  the  evening,  we  found  Sir  Thomas 
Worsley. 

October  2lst.] — One  of  those  impulses,  which  it  is  neither  very  easy  nor 
very  necessary  to  withstand,  drew  me  from  Longinus  to  a  very  different 
subject,  the  Greek  Calendar.  Last  night,  when  in  bed,  I  was  thinking  of  a 
dissertation  of  M.  de  la  Nauze  upon  the  Roman  Calendar,  which  I  read  last 
year.  This  led  me  to  consider  what  was  the  Greek,  and  finding  myself 
very  ignorant  of  it,  I  determined  to  read  a  short,  but  very  excellent  extract 
of  Mr.  DodweU's  book  De  Cychs,  by  the  famous  Dr.  Halley.  It  is  only 
twenty*five  pages  ;  but  as  I  meditated  it  thoroughly,  and  verified  all  the 
calculations,  it  was  a  very  good  morning's  work. 

October  28th.] — I  looked  over  a  new  Greek  Lexicon,  which  I  have  just 
received  from  London.  It  is  that  of  Robert  ConstanUne,  Lugdun,  1637.  It 
is  a  very  large  volume  in  folio,  in  two  parts,  comprising  in  the  whole  1785 
pages.  After  the  great  Thesaurus,  this  is  esteemed  the  best  Greek  Lexicon. 
It  seems  to  be  so.  Of  a  variety  of  words  for  which  I  looked,  I  always  found 


134 


THE  AUTHOR  IN  THE  HAMPSHIRE  MILITIA. 


amid  the  perpetual  hurry  of  an  inn,  a  barrack,  or  a  guard- 

an  exact  definition;  the  various  senses  well  distinguished  and  properly  eap- 
ported,  by  the  best  aathorities.  However,  I  still  prefer  the  radical  method 
of  Scapula  to  this  alphabetical  one. 

December  llth  ] — I  have  already  given  an  idea  of  the  Gosport  duty;  I 
Bhali  only  add  a  trait  which  characterises  admirably  our  unthinking  sailors. 
Ala  time  when  they  knew  that  they  should  infallibly  be  discharged  in  a  few 
weeks,  numbers,  who  had  considei-able  wages  due  to  them,  were  continu- 
ally jumping  over  the  walls,  and  risking  the  losing  of  it  for  a  few  hours' 
amusement  at  Portsmouth. 

17th.] — We  found  old  Captain  Meard  at  Alresford,  with  the  second  divi- 
sion of  the  fourteenth.  He  and  all  his  officers  supped  with  as,  and  made 
the  evening  rather  a  drunken  one. 

18th.] — About  the  same  hour  our  two  corps  paraded  to  march  off:  they, 
an  old  corps  of  regulars,  who  had  been  two  years  quiet  in  Dover  castle  ;  we, 
part  of  a  young  body  of  militia,  twcthirds  of  our  men  recruits  of  fonr 
months  standing,  two  of  which  they  had  passed  upon  very  disagreeable 
duty.  Every  advantage  was  on  their  side,  and  yet  our  superiority,  both  as 
to  appearance  and  discipline,  was  so  striking,  that  the  most  prejudiced 
regular  could  not  have  hesitated  a  moment.  At  the  end  of  the  town  our 
two  companies  separated  :  my  father's  struck  off  for  Petersfield,  whilst  I 
continued  my  rout  to  Alton;  into  which  place  I  marched  my  com- 
pany about  noon;  two  years  sis  months  and  fifteen  days  after  my  first 
leaving  it.  I  gave  the  men  some  beer  at  roll-calling,  which  they  received 
with  great  cheerfulness  and  decency.  I  dined  and  lay  at  Harrison's,  where 
I  was  received  with  that  old-fashioned  breeding  which  is  at  once  so  honour- 
able and  so  troublesome. 

23rd.] — Our  two  companies  were  disembodied:  mine  at  Alton,  and  my 
father's  at  Buriton.  Smith  marched  them  over  from  Petersfield :  they  fired 
three  volleys,  lodged  the  major's  colours,  delivered  up  their  arms,  received 
then-  money,  partook  of  a  dinner  at  the  major's  expense,  and  then  separated 
with  great  cheerfulness  and  regularity.  Thus  ended  the  militia ;  I  may  say 
ended,  smce  our  annual  assemblies  in  May  are  so  very  precarious,  and  can 
be  of  so  little  use.  However,  our  sergeants  and  drums  are  still  kept  up,  and 
quartered  at  the  rendezvous  of  their  company,  and  the  adjutant  remains  at 
Southampton  in  full  pay. 

As  this  was  an  extraordinary  ECGDc  of  life,  ill  wbicli  I  was  engsged  abovo 
tlirce  years  and  a  half  fi-om  the  date  of  my  commifisioiii  and  above  two 


THE  AUTHOR  IN  THE  HAMPSHIRE  MILITIA. 


135 


room,  all  literary  ideas  were  banished  from  my  mind. 

years  and  a  half  from  the  time  of  our  embodying,  I  cannnt  take  my  leave  of  it 
without  some  few  reflections.  When  I  engaged  in  it,  I  was  totally  ignorant 
of  its  nature  and  consequences.  I  offered,  because  my  father  did,  without 
ever  imagining  that  we  should  be  called  out,  till  it  was  too  late  to  retreat 
with  honour.  Indeed,  I  believe  it  happens  throughout,  that  our  most  im- 
portant actions  have  been  often  determined  by  chance,  caprice,  or  some 
very  inadequate  motive.  After  our  embodying,  many  things  contributed  to 
make  me  support  it  with  impatience.  Our  continual  disputes  with  the 
Duke  of  Bolton  ;  our  unsettled  way  of  life,  which  hardly  allowed  me  books 
or  leisure  for  study  ;  and,  more  than  all,  the  disagreeable  society  in  which  I 
was  forced  to  live. 

After  mentioning  my  sufferings,  I  must  say  something  of  what  I  found 
agi-eeable.  Now  it  is  over,  I  can  make  the  separation  much  better  than  I 
could  at  the  time.  1.  The  unsettled  way  of  life  itself  had  its  advantages. 
The  exercise  and  change  of  air  and  of  objects  amused  me,  at  the  same 
time  that  it  fortified  my  health.  2.  A  new  field  of  knowledge  and  amuse- 
ment opened  itself  to  me  ;  that  of  military  affairs,  which  both  in  my  studies 
and  travels,  will  give  me  eyes  for  a  new  world  of  things,  which  before 
would  have  passed  unheeded.  Indeed,  in  that  respect  I  can  hardly  help 
wishing  our  battalion  had  continued  another  year.  We  had  got  a  fine  set 
of  new  men,  all  our  difficulties  were  over  ;  we  were  perfectly  well  clothed 
and  appointed ;  and,  from  the  progress  our  recruits  had  already  made,  we 
could  promise  ourselves  that  we  should  bo  one  of  the  best  militia  corps  by 
next  summer  :  a  circumstance  that  would  have  been  tho  more  agreeable  to 
me,  as  I  am  now  established  the  real  acting  major  of  the  battalion.  Bnt 
what  I  value  most,  is  the  knowledge  it  has  given  me  of  mankind  in  general, 
and  of  my  own  country  in  particular.  The  general  system  of  our  govern- 
ment, the  methods  of  our  several  offices,  the  departments  and  powers  of 
their  respective  ofiBcers,  our  provincial  and  municipal  administration,  the 
views  of  our  several  parties ,  the  characters,  connexions,  and  influence  of 
onr  principal  people,  have  been  impressed  on  my  mind,  not  by  vain  theory, 
but  by  the  indellible  lessons  of  action  and  experience.  I  have  made  a  num- 
ber of  valuable  acquaintances,  an  d  am  myself  much  better  known,  than  (  with 
my  reserved  character)  I  should  have  been  in  ten  years,  passing  regularly 
my  summers  at  Beritou,  and  my  winters  in  London.  So  that  the  sum  of  all 
is,  I  am  glad  the  militia  has  been,  aud  glad  that  it  is  no  more. 


CHAP.  XV. 

THE  AUTHOR  RESUMES  HIS  STUDIES. 

After  this  long  fast,  the  longest  which  I  have  ever 
known,  I  once  more  tasted  at  Dover  the  pleasures  of 
reading  and  thinking ;  and  the  hungry  appetite  with 
which  I  opened  a  volume  of  Tally's  philosophical  works 
is  still  present  to  my  memory.  The  last  review  of  my 
essay  before  its  publication,  had  prompted  me  to  investi- 
gate the  natui^e  of  the  gods ;  my  inquiries  led  me  to  the 
Histoire  Critique  du  Manicheisme  of  Beausobre,  who  dis- 
cusses many  deep  questions  of  pagan  and  christian  the- 
ology ;  and  from  this  rich  treasury  of  facts  and  opinions, 
I  deduced  my  own  consequences,  beyond  the  holy  circle 
of  tiie  author.  After  this  recovery  I  never  relapsed  into 
indolence  ;  and  my  example  might  prove,  that  in  the  life 
most  averse  to  study,  some  hours  may  be  stolen,  some 
minutes  may  be  snatched.  Amidst  the  tumult  of  Win- 
chester camp  I  sometimes  thought  and  read  in  my  tent ; 
in  the  more  settled  quarters  of  the  Devizes,  Blandford, 
and  Southampton,  I  always  secured  a  separate  lodging, 
and  the  necessary  books;  and  in  the  summer  of  1762, 
while  the  new  militia  was  raising,  I  enjoyed  at  Beriton 
two  or  three  months  of  literary  repose.*    In  forming  a 

•Journal,  May  8th,  17(5i2.] — This  was  my  birth-day,  on  which  I  en- 
tered into  the  twenty-sixth  year  of  my  age.    This  gave  me  occasion  to  look 


THE  AUTHOR  RESUMKS  HIS  STUDIES. 


137 


new  plan  of  study,  I  hesitated  between  the  mathematics 
and  the  Greek  language ;  both  of  which  I  had  neglected 
since  my  return  from  Lausanne.  I  consulted  a  learned 
and  friendly  mathematician,  Mr.  George  Scott,  a  pupil  of 
De  Moivre  ;  and  his  map  of  a  country  which  I  have  never 
explored  may  perhaps  be  more  serviceable  to  others.* 
As  soon  as  I  had  given  the  preference  to  Greek,  the  exam- 
ple of  Scaliger  and  my  own  reason  determined  me  on  the 
choice  of  Homer,  the  father  of  poetry,  and  the  Bible  of 
the  ancients :  but  Scaliger  ran  through  the  Iliad  in  one 
and  twenty  days ;  and  I  was  not  dissatisfied  with  my 
own  diligence  for  performing  the  same  labour  in  an  equal 
number  of  weeks.  After  the  first  difficulties  were  sur- 
mounted, the  language  of  nature  and  harmony  soon  be- 
came easy  and  familiar  ;  and  each  day  I  sailed  upon  the 
ocean  with  a  brisker  gale  and  a  more  steady  course. 

a  little  into  myself,  and  consider  impartially  my  good  and  bad  qualities.  It 
appeared  to  me,  upon  this  inquiry,  that  my  character  was  vii-tuous,  incapa- 
ble of  a  base  action,  and  fonned  for  generous  ones ;  but  that  it  was  proud, 
violent,  and  disagreeable  in  society.  These  qualities  I  must  endeavour  to 
cultivate,  extirpate,  or  resti-ain,  according  to  their  different  tendency.  Wit 
I  have  none.  My  imagination  is  rather  strong  than  pleasing.  My  memory 
both  capacious  and  retentive.  The  shining  qualities  of  my  understanding 
are  extensiveness  and  penetration  ;  but  I  want  both  quickness  and  exact- 
ness. As  to  my  situation  in  life,  though  I  may  sometimes  repine  at  it,  it 
perhaps  is  the  best  adapted  to  my  character.  I  can  command  all  the  con- 
veniences of  life,  and  I  can  command  too  that  independence,  (that  first 
earthly  blessing)  which  is  hardly  to  be  met  within  a  higher  or  lower  fortune, 
"When  I  talk  of  my  situation,  I  must  exclude  that  temporary  one,  of  being 
in  the  militia.  Though  I  go  through  with  spirit  and  application,  it  is  unfit 
for  and  unworthy  of  me. 

*  See  Letter,  No.  XIV.  excellent,  (rom  Mr.  Scott  to  Mr.  Gibbon. 


138  THE  AUTHOR  RESUMES  HIS  STUDIES. 


'H  xara  xv/Aa  (Jiai'pvjrfo'ouo'a  xsXEu^a.* — llias.A..  481. 

In  the  study  of  a  poet  who  has  since  become  the  most 
intimate  of  my  friends,  I  successively  applied  many  pas- 
sages and  fragments  of  Greek  writers ;  and  among  these 
I  shall  notice  a  hfe  of  Homer,  in  the  Opuscula  Mytholo- 
gica  of  Gale,  several  books  of  the  geography  of  Strabo, 
and  the  entire  treatise  of  Longinus,  which,  from  the  title 
and  the  style,  is  equally  worthy  of  the  epithet  of  sublime. 
My  grammatical  skill  was  improved,  my  vocabulary  was 
enlarged  ;  and  in  the  militia  I  acquired  a  just  and  indeli- 
ble knowledge  of  the  first  of  languages.  On  every 
march,  in  every  journey,  Horace  was  always  in  my 
pocket,  and  often  in  my  hand ;  but  I  should  not  mention 
his  two  critical  epistles,  the  amusement  of  a  morning, 
had  they  not  been  accompanied  by  the  elaborate  com- 
mentary of  Dr.  Hurd,  now  Bishop  of  Worcester.  On 
the  interesting  subjects  of  composition  and  imitation  of 
epic  and  dramatic  poetry,  I  presumed  to  think  for  myself ; 
and  thirty  close  written  pages  in  folio  could  scarcely 
comprise  my  full  and  free  discussion  of  the  sense  of  the 
master  and  the  pedantry  of  the  servant. 

After  his  oracle  Dr.  Johnson,  my  friend  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  denies  all  original  genuis,  any  natural  propen- 

»   Fair  wind,  and  blowing  fresb, 

Apollo  sent  Ihem  ;  quick  they  rcar'd  the  mast, 
Then  spread  th'  unsullied  canvas  to  the  gale, 
And  the  wind  fiU'd  it.    Koar'd  the  sable  flood 
Around  the  bark,  that  ever  as  she  went 

Dash'd  wide  the  brine,  and  scudded  swift  away. — Cowper's  Homer. 


THE  AUTHOR  RESUMES  HIS  STUDIES. 


130 


sity  of  the  mind  to  one  art  or  science  rather  than 
another.  Without  engaging  in  a  metaphysical  or  rather 
verbal  dispute,  I  know,  by  experience,  that  from  my 
early  youth  I  aspired  to  the  character  of  an  historian. 
While  I  served  in  the  militia,  before  and  after  the  publi- 
cation of  my  essay,  this  idea  ripened  in  my  mind ;  nor 
can  I  paint  in  more  lively  colours  the  feehngs  of  the 
moment,  than  by  transcribing  some  passages,  under  their 
respective  dates,  from  a  journal  which  I  kept  at  that 
time. 

"Beriton,  April  14,  1761. — (In  a  short  excursion  from 
Dover.) — Having  thought  of  several  subjects  for  an  his- 
torical composition,  I  chose  the  expedition  of  Charles 
VIII.  of  France  into  Italy.  I  read  two  memoirs  of  Mr. 
De  Foncemagne  in  the  Academy  of  Inscriptions  (torn, 
xvii.  p.  539 — 607),  and  abstracted  them.  I  likewise 
finished  this  day  a  dissertation,  in  which  I  examine  the 
right  of  Charles  VIII.  to  the  crown  of  Naples,  and  the 
rival  claims  of  the  House  of  Anjou  and  Arragon :  it  con- 
sists of  ten  folio  pages,  besides  large  notes." 

"Beriton,  August  4,  1761. — (In  a  week's  excursion 
from  Winchester  Camp.) — After  having  long  revolved 
subjects  for  my  intended  historical  essay,  I  renounced 
my  first  thought  of  the  expedition  of  Charles  VIII.  as 
too  remote  from  us,  and  rather  an  introduction  to  great 
events,  than  great  and  important  in  itself.  I  succes- 
sively chose  and  rejected  the  Crusade  of  Richard  the 
First,  the  barons'  wars  against  John  and  Henry  the 
Third,  the  history  of  Edward  the  Black  Prince,  the  lives 
and  comparisons  of  Henry  V.  and  the  Emperor  Titus, 
the  life  of  Sir  Philip  Sydney,  and  that  of  the  Marquis  of 


140 


THE  AUTHOR  RESUMES  HIS  STUDIES. 


Montrose.  At  length  I  have  fixed  on  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh  for  nay  hero.  His  eventful  story  is  varied  by 
the  characters  of  the  soldier  and  sailor,  the  courtier  and 
historian ;  and  it  may  afford  such  a  fund  of  materials  as 
I  desire,  which  have  not  yet  been  properly  manufactured. 
At  present  I  cannot  attempt  the  execution  of  this  work. 
Free  leisure,  and  the  opportunity  of  consulting  many  books, 
both  printed  and  manuscript,  are  as  necessary  as  they 
are  impossible  to  be  attained  in  my  present  way  of  life. 
However,  to  acquire  a  general  insight  into  my  subject 
and  resources,  I  read  the  life  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  by 
Dr.  Birch,  his  copious  article  in  the  General  Dictionary 
by  the  same  hand,  and  the  reigns  of  Queen  Elizabeth 
and  James  the  First,  in  Hume's  History  of  England." 

"Beriton,  January,  17G2. — (In  a  month's  absence  from 
the  Devizes.) — During  this  interval  of  repose,  I  again 
turned  my  thoughts  to  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  and  looked 
more  closely  into  my  materials.  I  read  the  two  volumes 
in  quarto  of  the  Bacon  papers,  published  by  Dr.  Birch : 
the  Fragmenta  Regalia  of  Sir  Robert  Naunton,  Mallet's 
Life  of  Lord  Bacon,  and  the  political  treatises  of  that 
great  man  in  the  first  volume  of  his  works,  with  many 
of  his  letters  in  the  second  ;  Sir  William  Monson's  Naval 
Tracts,  and  the  elaborate  life  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh, 
which  Mr.  Oldys  has  prefixed  to  the  best  edition  of  his 
History  of  the  World.  My  subject  opens  upon  me,  and 
in  general  improves  upon  a  nearer  prospect." 

"  Beriton,  July  26,  17G2 — (During  my  summer  resi- 
dence.)— I  am  afraid  of  being  reduced  to  drop  my  hero; 
but  my  time  has  not,  however,  been  lost  in  the  research 
of  his  story,  and  of  a  memorable  sera  of  our  English 


THE  AUTHOR  RESUMES  HIS  STUDIES.  141 


annals.  The  Life  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  by  Oldys,  is  a 
very  poor  performance ;  a  servile  panegyric,  or  flat 
apology,  tediously  minute,  and  composed  in  a  dull  and 
affected  style.  Yet  the  author  was  a  man  of  diligence 
and  learning,  who  had  read  every  thing  relative  to  his 
subject  and  whose  ample  collections  are  arranged  with 
perspicuity  and  method.  Excepting  some  anecdotes 
lately  revealed  in  the  Sydney  and  Bacon  papers,  1  know 
not  what  I  should  be  able  to  add.  My  ambition  (ex- 
clusive of  the  uncertain  merit  of  style  and  sentiment) 
must  be  confined  to  the  hope  of  giving  a  good  abridg- 
ment of  Oldys.  1  have  even  the  disappointment  of  find- 
ing some  parts  of  this  copious  work  dry  and  barren ; 
and  these  parts  are  unluckily  some  of  the  most  charac- 
teristic :  Raleigh's  colony  of  Virginia,  his  quarrels  with 
Essex,  the  true  seci-et  of  his  conspiracy,  and  above  all, 
the  detail  of  his  private  life,  the  most  essential  and  im- 
portant to  a  biographer.  My  best  resource  would  be 
in  the  circumjacent  history  of  the  tinies,  and  perhaps  in 
some  digressions  artfully  introduced,  like  the  fortunes  of  the 
peripatetic  philosophy  in  the  portrait  of  Lord  Bacon.  But 
the  reigns  of  Elizabeth  and  James  the  First  arc  the  periods 
of  English  history,  which  have  been  the  most  variously 
illustrated :  and  what  new  lights  could  I  reflect  on  a 
subject,  which  has  exercised  the  accurate  industry  of 
Birch,  the  lively  and  curious  acuteness  of  Walpole,  the 
critical  spirit  of  Hurd,  the  vigorous  sense  of  Mallet  and 
Robertson,  and  the  impartial  philosophy  of  Hume?- 
Could  t  even  surmount  these  obstacles,  I  should  shrink 
with  terror  from  the  modern  history  of  England,  where 
every  character  is  a  problem,  and  every  reader  a  friend 


142 


THE  AUTHOR  RESUMES  HIS  STUDIES. 


or  an  enemy ;  where  a  writer  is  supposed  to  hoist  a 
flag  of  party,  and  is  devoted  to  damnation  by  the  adverse 
faction.  Such  would  be  my  reception  at  home ;  and 
abroad  the  historian  of  Raleigh  must  encounter  an  in- 
difference far  more  bitter  than  censure  or  i-eproach. 
The  events  of  his  life  are  interesting ;  but  his  character 
is  ambiguous,  his  actions  are  obscure,  his  writings  are 
English,  and  his  fame  is  confined  to  the  narrow  limits 
of  our  language  and  our  island.  I  must  embrace  a 
safer  and  more  extensive  theme. 

"  There  is  one  which  I  should  prefer  to  all  others,  the 
History  of  the  Liberty  of  the  Swiss,  of  that  independ- 
ence which  a  brave  people  rescued  from  the  house  of 
Austria,  defended  against  a  Dauphin  of  France,  and 
finally  sealed  with  the  blood  of  Charles  of  Bergundy. 
From  such  a  theme,  so  full  of  public  spirit,  of  military 
glory,  of  examples  of  virtue,  of  lessons  of  government, 
the  dullest  stranger  would  catch  fire  :  what  might  not  / 
hope,  whose  talents,  whatsoever  they  may  be,  would  be 
inflamed  with  the  zeal  of  patriotism.  But  the  materials 
of  this  history  are  inaccessable  to  me,  fast  locked  in  the 
obscurity  of  an  old  barbarous  German  dialect,  of  which 
I  am  totally  ignorant,  and  which  I  cannot  resolve  to 
learn  for  this  sole  and  peculiar  purpose. 

"  I  have  another  subject  in  view,  which  is  the  con- 
trast of  the  former  history :  the  one  a  poor,  warlike, 
virtuous  republic,  which  emerges  into  glory  and  freedom  ; 
the  other  a  commonwealth,  soft,  opulent,  and  corrupt ; 
which,  by  just  degrees,  is  precipitated  from  the  |l)usc  to 
the  loss  of  her  liberty :  both  lessons  arc,  perhaps,  equally 
instructive.    This  second  subject  is,  the  History  of  the 


THE  AUTHOR  RESUMES  HIS  STUDIES.  143 


Republic  of  Florence  under  the  house  qf  Medicis  :  a  pe- 
riod of  one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  which  rises  or  de- 
scends from  the  dregs  of  the  Florentine  democracy,  to 
the  title  and  dominion  of  Cosmo  de  Medicis  in  the  grand 
duchy  ot  Tuscany.  I  might  deduce  a  chain  of  revolu- 
tions not  unworthy  the  pen  of  Vertot ;  singular  men,  and 
singular  events ;  the  Medicis  four  times  expelled,  and  as 
often  recalled ;  and  the  Genius  of  Freedom,  reluctantly 
yielding  to  the  arms  of  Charles  V.  and  the  policy  of 
Cosmo.  The  character  and  fate  of  Savanerola,  and  the 
revival  of  arts  and  letters  in  Italy,  will  be  essentially  con- 
nected with  the  elevation  of  the  family  and  the  fall  of  the 
republic.  The  Medicis  (stirps  quasi  fataliter  nota  ad 
instauranda  vel  fovenda  studia.  Lipsius  ad  Germanos 
et  Gallos,  Epist.  viii.)  were  illustrated  by  the  patronage 
of  Learning ;  and  enthusiasm  was  the  most  formidable 
weapon  of  their  adversaries.  On  this  splendid  subject 
I  shall  most  probably  fix ;  but  vjhen,  or  where,  or  how 
will  it  be  executed?  I  behold  in  a  dark  and  doubtful 
perspective." 

Res  alts  terrtt,  et  caligine  mersaa.* 

*  JooRNAL,  July  27,  1762.] — The  reflections  which  I  was  making  yester- 
day, I  continued  and  digested  to-day.  I  don't  absolutely  look  on  that 
time  as  lost,  but  that  it  might  have  been  bettor  employed  than  in  revolv- 
ing schemes,  the  execution  of  which  is  so  far  distant.  I  must  learn  to 
check  these  wanderings  of  my  imagination. 

Nov  24.] — I  dined  at  the  Cocoa  Tree  with  ****  ' :  who,  under  a  great 
appearance  of  oddity,  conceals  more  real  honour,  good  sense,  and  even 
knowledge,  than  half  those  who  laugh  at  him.  We  went  thence  to  the 
play  (the  Spanish  Friar);  and  when  it  was  over,  returned  to  the  Cocoa 
Tree.  That  respectable  body,  of  which  I  have  the  honour  of  being  a  mem- 
ber affords  every  evening  a  sight  truly  English.    Twenty  or  thirty,  per- 


144 


THE  AUTHOR  RESUMES  HIS  STUDIES. 


haps,  of  the  first  men  in  the  kingdom,  iu  point  of  fashion  and  fortune,  sup- 
ping at  little  tables  covered  with  a  napkin,  in  the  middle  of  a  coffee-room, 
upon  a  bit  of  cold  meat,  or  a  sandwich,  and  drinking  a  glass  of  punch.  At 
present,  we  are  full  of  king's  counsellors  and  lords  of  the  bedchanlber ; 
who,  having  jumped  into  the  ministry,  make  a  very  singular  medley  of 
their  old  principles  and  language  with  their  modern  ones. 

Nov.  26.] — I  went  with  Mallet  to  breakfast  with  Garrick  ;  and  thence 
to  Drary-lane  House,  wljero  I  assisted  at  a  very  private  rehearsal,  in  the 
Green-room,  of  a  new  tragedy  of  Mallet's,  called  Elvira.  As  I  have  not 
since  seen  it  acted,  I  shall  defer  my  opinion  till  then ;  but  I  cannot  help 
mentioning  the  surprising  versatility  of  Mrs.  Pritchard's  talents,  who  re- 
hearsed, almost  at  the  same  time,  the  part  of  a  furious  queen  in  the  Green- 
room, and  that  of  a  coquette  on  the  stage  and  passed  several  times  from 
one  to  the  other  with  the  utmost  ease  and  liappiness. 

Dec.  30.] — Before  I  close  the  yeai'  I  must  balance  my  accounts — not  of 
money,  but  of  time.  I  may  divide  my  studies  into  four  branches  :  1.  Books 
that  I  have  read  for  themselves,  classic  writers  or  capital  treatises  upon  any 
science ;  such  books  as  ought  to  be  perused  with  attention,  and  meditated 
with  care.  Of  these  I  read  the  twenty  last  books  of  tlie  Iliad  twice,  the 
three  first  books  of  the  Odyssey,  the  life  of  Homer,  and  Longinus  trcpi 
Y\povs.  2.  Books  which  I  have  read,  or  consulted,  to  illustrate  the  former. 
Such  as  this  year,  Blackwall's  Inquiry  into  the  Life  and  writings  of  Homer, 
Burke's  Sublime  and  Beautiful,  Kurd's  Horace,  Guichard's  M^moires  Mih- 
taires,  a  great  variety  of  passages  of  the  ancients,  occasionally  useful ;  large 
extracts  from  Mezeriac,  Bayle,and  Potter;  and  many  memoires  and  ab- 
stracts from  the  Academy  of  Belles  Lettres :  among  these  I  shall  only  mention 
here  two  long  and  curious  suits  of  dissertations — the  one  upon  the  Temple 
of  Delphi,  the  Amphictyonic  Council,  and  the  Holy  Wars,  by  MM.  Hardion 
and  de  Valois  ;  the  other  upon  the  Games  of  the  Grecians,  by  MM.  Burette, 
Gedoyne,  and  de  la  Barre.  3.  Books  of  amusement  and  instruction,  pe- 
rused at  my  leisiu-e  hours,  without  any  reference  to  a  regular  plan  of  study. 
Of  these,  perhaps,  I  read  too  many,  since  I  went  through  the  Life  of  Eras- 
mus, by  Le  Clerc  and  Burigny,  many  extracts  from  Le  Clerc's  BibUo- 
theques,  the  Ciceronianus,  and  Colloquies  of  Erasmus,  Barclay's  Argenis, 
Terrasson's  Sethos,  Voltaire's  Siecle  de  Louis  XIV.,  Madame  de  Motteville's 
Memoirs,  and  Fontenelle's  Works.  4.  Compositions  of  my  own.  I  find 
hardly  any,  except  this  Journal,  and  the  Extract  of  Kurd's  Horace,  whicli 
(like  a  chapter  of  Montaigae^  contains  many  things  very  different  from  its 


THE  AUTHOR  RESUMES  HIS  STUDIES. 


title.  To  these  four  heads  I  must  this  year  add  a  fifth.  5.  Those  treatises 
of  English  liistory  which  I  read  ia  January,  with  a  view  to  my  now  abor- 
tive scheme  of  the  Life  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  I  ought  indeed  to  hava 
known  my  own  mind  better  before  I  undertook  them.  Upon  the  whole, 
after  making  proper  allowances,  I  am  not  dissatisfied  with  the  year. 

The  three  weeks  which  I  passed  at  Beriton,  at  the  end  of  this  and  the 
beginning  of  the  ensuing  year,  are  almost  a  blank.  I  seldom  went  out ; 
and  as  the  scheme  of  my  travelling  was  at  last  entirely  settled,  the  hurry  of 
impatience,  the  cares  of  preparations,  and  the  tenderness  of  irieuds  I  was 
going  to  quit,  allowed  me  hardly  any  moments  for  study. 


CHAP.  XVI. 


MR.  GIBBON  AT  PARTS. 

The  youthful  habits  of  the  language  and  manners  of 
France  had  left  in  my  mind  an  ardent  desire  of  revisiting 
the  Continent  on  a  larger  and  more  liberal  plan.  Ac- 
cording to  the  law  of  custom,  and  perhaps  of  reason, 
foreign  travel  completes  the  education  of  an  English  gen- 
tleman ;  my  father  had  consented  to  my  wish,  but  I  was 
detained  above  four  years  by  my  rash  engagement  in  the 
militia.  I  eagerly  grasped  the  first  moments  of  freedom : 
three  or  four  weeks  in  Hampshire  and  London  were  em- 
ployed in  the  preparations  of  my  journey,  and  the  fare- 
well visits  of  friendship  and  civility :  my  last  act  in  town 
was  to  applaud  Mallet's  new  tragedy  of  Elvira  ;*  a  post- 

*  Journal,  January  11th,  1763.] — I  called  upon  Dr.  Maty  in  the  morn- 
ing. He  told  me  that  the  Duke  de  Nivemois  desired  to  be  acquainted  with 
me.  It  was  indeed  with  that  view  that  I  had  written  to  Maty  from  Beriton 
to  present,  in  my  name,  a  copy  of  my  book  to  him.  Thence  I  went  to 
Becket,  paid  him  his  biU,  (fifty-four  pounds,)  and  gave  him  back  his  trans- 
lation. It  must  be  printed,  though  very  indifferent.  My  comfort  is,  that 
my  misfortune  is  not  an  uncommon  one.  We  dined  and  supped  at  the 
Mallets. 

12th.  I  went  with  Maty  to  visit  the  Duke  in  Albemarle-street.  He  is  a 
little  emaciated  figure,  but  appears  to  possess  a  good  understanding,  taste, 
and  knowledge.  He  offered  me  very  politely  letters  for  Paris.  We  dined 
at  our  lodgings.  I  went  to  Covent  Garden  to  see  Woodward  in  Bobadil, 
and  supped  with  the  Mallets  at  George  Scott's. 

Journal,  Jan.  19th,  17G3.]— I  waited  upon  Lady  Hervey  and  the  Duke 


MR.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS. 


147 


chaise  conveyed  me  to  Dover,  the  packet  to  Boulogne,  and 
such  was  my  diligence,  that  I  reached  Paris  on  the  28th 
of  January,  1763,  only  thirty-six  days  after  the  disband- 

de  Nivernois,  and  received  my  credentials.  Lady  Hervey's  are  for  M.  lo 
Comte  de  Caylus,  aud  Madame  Geoffiia.  The  Duke  received  me  civilly, 
but  (perhaps  through  Maty's  fault)  treated  me  more  as  a  man  of  letters 
than  as  a  man  of  fashion.  His  letters  are  entirely  in  that  style;  for  the 
Comte  de  Caylus  and  MM.  de  la  Bleterie,  de  Ste.  Palaye,  Caperonnier,  du 
i  Clos,  de  Foncemague,  and  d'Alembert.  I  then  undressed  for  the  play 
My  father  and  I  went  to  the  Rose,  in  the  passage  of  the  play-house,  where 
we  found  Midlet,  with  about  thirty  friends.  We  dined  together,  and  went 
thence  into  the  pit,  where  we  took  om-  places  in  a  body,  ready  to  silence 
all  opposition.  However,  we  had  no  occasion  to  exert  ourselves.  Notwith 
standing  the  malice  of  party.  Mallet's  nation,  connexions,  and,  indeed,  im- 
prudence, we  heard  nothing  but  applause.  I  think  it  was  deserved.  The 
plan  was  borrowed  from  De  la  Motte,  but  the  details  and  language  have 
great  merit.  A  fine  vein  of  dramatic  poetry  runs  through  the  piece.  The 
scenes  between  the  father  and  son  awaken  almost  evei-y  sensation  of  the 
human  breast  ;  and  the  counsel  would  have  equally  moved,  but  for  the 
inconvenience  unavoidable  upon  all  theatres,  that  of  intrusting  fine  speeches 
to  indifferent  actors.  The  perplexity  of  the  catastrophe  is  much,  and  I 
believe  justly  criticised.  But  another  defect  made  a  sti-onger  impression 
upon  me.  When  the  poet  ventures  upon  the  dreadful  situation  of  a  father 
who  condemns  his  son  to  death,  there  is  no  medium,  the  father  must  either 
be  a  monster  or  a  hero.  The  obhgations  of  justice,  of  the  public  good, 
must  be  as  binding,  as  apparent,  as  perhaps  those  of  the  first  Brutus.  The 
cruel  necessity  consecrates  his  actions,  and  leaves  no  room  for  repentance. 
The  thought  is  shocking  if  not  carried  mto  action.  In  the  execution  of 
Brntus's  sons  I  am  sensible  of  that  fatal  necessity.  W^itliout  such  an  exam- 
ple, the  unsettled  liberty  of  Rome  would  have  perished  the  instant  after  its 
birth.  But  Alonzo  might  have  pardoned  his  son  for  a  rash  attempt,  the 
cause  of  which  was  a  private  injury,  and  whose  consequences  could  never 
have  disturbed  an  established  government.  He  might  have  pardoned 
such  a  crime  in  any  other  subject ;  and  as  the  laws  could  exact  only  an 
equal  rigour  for  a  son,  a  vain  appetite  for  glory,  and  a  mad  affectation  of 
heroism,  could  alone  have  influenced  him  to  exert  an  unequal  and  superior 
severity. 


143 


MR.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS. 


ing  of  the  militia.  Two  or  three  years  were  loosely 
defined  for  the  term  of  my  absence ;  and  I  was  left  at 
liberty  to  spend  that  time  in  such  places  and  in  such  a 
manner  as  was  most  agreeable  to  my  taste  and  judgment. 

In  this  first  visit  I  passed  three  months  and  a  half, 
(January  28 — May  9,)  and  a  much  longer  space  might 
have  been  agreeably  filled,  without  any  intercourse  with 
the  natives.  At  home  we  are  content  to  move  in  the 
daily  round  of  pleasure  and  business  ;  and  a  scene  which 
is  always  present  is  supposed  to  be  within  our  know- 
ledge, or  at  least  within  our  power.  But  in  a  foreign 
country,  curiosity  is  our  business  and  our  pleasure  ;  and 
the  traveller,  conscious  of  his  ignorance,  and  covetous  of 
his  time,  is  diligent  in  the  search  and  the  view  of  every 
object  that  can  deserve  his  attention.  I  devoted  many 
hours  in  the  morning  to  the  circuit  of  Paris  and  the 
neighbourhood,  to  the  visit  of  churches  and  palaces  con- 
spicuous by  their  architecture,  to  the  royal  manufactures, 
collections  of  books  and  pictures,  and  all  the  various 
treasures  of  art,  of  learning,  and  of  luxury.  An  English- 
man may  hear  without  reluctance,  that  in  these  curious 
and  costly  articles  Paris  is  superior  to  London  ;  since  the 
opulence  of  the  French  capital  arises  from  the  defects  of 
its  government  and  religion.  In  the  absence  of  Louis 
XIV.  and  his  successors,  the  Louvre  has  been  left 
unfinished  :  but  the  millions  which  have  been  lavished  on 
the  sands  of  Versailles,  and  the  morass  of  Marli,  could 
not  be  supplied  by  the  legal  allowance  of  a  British  king. 
The  splendour  of  the  French  nobles  is  confined  to  their 
town  residence ;  that  of  the  English  is  more  usefully  dis- 
tributed in  their  country  seats ;  and  we  should  be 


MR.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS.  149 

astonished  at  our  own  riches,  if  the  labours  of  architec- 
ture, the  spoils  of  Italy  and  Greece,  which  are  now  scat- 
tered from  Inverary  to  Wilton,  were  accumulated  in  a 
few  streets  between  Marylebone  and  Westminster.  All 
superfluous  ornament  is  rejected  by  the  cold  frugality  of 
the  Protestants ;  but  the  catholic  superstition,  which  is 
always  the  enemy  of  reason,  is  often  the  parent  of  the 
arts.  The  wealthy  communities  of  priests  and  monks 
expend  their  revenues  in  stately  edifices ;  and  the  parish 
church  of  St.  Sulpice,  one  of  the  noblest  structures  in 
Paris,  was  built  and  adorned  by  the  private  industry  of  a 
late  cure.  In  this  outset,  and  still  more  in  tke  sequel  of 
my  tour,  my  eye  was  amused ;  but  the  pleasing  vision 
cannot  be  fixed  by  the  pen :  the  particular  images  are 
darkly  seen  through  the  medium  of  five-and-twenty 
■years,  and  the  narrative  of  my  life  must  not  degenerate 
into  a  book  of  travels.* 

*  Journal,  February  21,  1763.] — To-day  I  commenced  my  tour  around 
Ihe  city,  to  see  such  places  as  were  worthy  of  notice.  D'Auguy  accom- 
panied me.  We  went  first  to  the  Ubrary  of  the  Abbey  of  St.  Germain  des 
Pre'*,  where  every  body  was  busy,  arranging  a  cabinet  of  curiosities  ;  then 
to  the  Hopital  des  Invalides,  where  the  cupola  was  shut  np  on  account  of 
repairs  going  forwai-d.  I  must  therefore  defer  the  visit  and  description  of 
these  two  places.  From  thence  we  went  to  see  the  Ecole  Militaire.  As 
this  edifice  stands  beside  the  Invalides,  many  persons  would  there  perceive 
a  very  easy  method  of  appreciating  the  different  minds  of  their  respective 
~  founders.  In  one,  every  thing  is  grand  and  magnificent ;  in  the  other, 
every  thing  is  little  and  mean.  Small  white  apartments,  tolerably  clean, 
(which,  instead  of  the  500  gentlemen  talked  about,  contain  258)  compose 
the  whole  establishment ;  for  the  riding  school  and  stables  are  nothing.  It 
is  true  that  these  buildings  are  but  a  scafiTolding,  which  should  be  taken 
away,  to  erect  the  real  work  on  their  ruins.  Indeed,  they  could  not  have  been 
built  for  eternity,  since  in  twenty  years'  time  the  greater  part  of  the  beams 
are  rotten.  We  afterwards  glanced  at  the  church  of  St.  Sulpicius,  whose 
facade  (the  pretext  and  product  of  so  many  lotteries)  is  not  yet  finished. 


150 


MR.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS. 


But  the  principal  end  of  my  journey  was  to  enjoy  the 
society  of  a  pohshed  and  amiable  people,  in  whose  favour 
I  was  strongly  prejudiced,  and  to  converse  with  some 
authors,  whose  conversation,  as  I  fondly  imagined,  must 
be  far  more  pleasing  and  instructive  than  their  writings. 
The  moment  was  happily  chosen.  At  the  close  of  a 
successful  war,  the  British  name  was  respected  on  the 
Continent. 

Claram  et  venerabile  nomen 
Gentibus. 

Our  opinions,  our  fashions,  even  our  games,  were  adopted 
in  France,  a  ray  of  national  glory  illuminated  each  indi- 
vidual, and  every  Englishman  was  supposed  to  be  born 
a  patriot  and  a  philosopher.  For  myself,  I  carried  a 
personal  recommendation ;  my  name  and  my  Essay  were 
already  known ;  the  compliment  of  having  written  in  the 
French  language  entitled  me  to  some  returns  of  civility 
and  gratitude.  I  was  considered  as  a  man  of  letters  who 
wrote  for  amusement.  Before  my  departure  I  had 
obtained  from  the  Duke  de  Nivernois,  Lady  Hervey,  the 
Mallets,  Mr.  Walpole,  &c.,  many  letters  of  recommenda- 
tion to  their  private  or  literary  friends.  Of  these  epistles 
the  reception  and  success  were  determined  by  the  cha- 
racter and  situation  of  the  persons  by  whom  and  to  whom 
they  were  addressed ;  the  seed  was  sometimes  cast  on  a 
barren  rock,  and  it  sometimes  multiplied  an  hundred  fold 
in  the  production  of  new  shoots,  spreading  branches, 
and  exquisite  fruit.  But  upon  the  whole,  I  had  reason  to 
praise  the  national  urbanity,  which  from  the  coirrt  has 
diffused  its  gentle  influence  to  the  shop,  the  cottages,  and 


MR.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS. 


151 


the  schools.  Of  the  men  of  genius  of  the  age,  Montes- 
quieu and  Fontenelle  were  no  more  ;  Voltaire  resided  on 
his  own  estate  near  Geneva ;  Rousseau  in  the  preceding 
year  had  been  driven  from  his  hermitage  in  Montmorency; 
and  I  blush  at  my  having  neglected  to  seek,  in  this  jour- 
ney, the  acquaintance  of  Buffon.  Among  the  men  of  letters 
whom  I  sav/,  D'AIembert  and  Diderot  held  the  foremost 
rank  in  merit,  or  at  least  in  fame.  I  shall  content  myself 
with  enumerating  the  well-known  names  of  the  Comte 
de  Caylus,  of  the  Abbe  de  la  Bleterie,  Barthelemy,  Reynal, 
Arnaud,  of  Messieurs  de  la  Condamine,  du  Clos,  de  Sainte 
Palaye,  de  Bougainville,  Caperonnier,  de  Guignes,  Suard, 
&c.,  without  attempting  to  discriminate  the  shades  of 
their  charcters,  or  the  degrees  of  our  connexion.  Alone, 
in  a  morning  visit,  I  commonly  found  the  artists  and 
authors  of  Paris  less  vain,  and  more  reasonable,  than  in 
the  circles  of  their  equals,  with  whom  they  mingle  in  the 
houses  of  the  rich.  Four  days  in  a  week  I  had  a  place, 
without  invitation,  at  the  hospitable  tables  of  Mesdames 
Geoffrin  and'du  Bocage,  of  the  celebrated  Helvetius,  and 
of  the  Baron  d'Olbach.  In  these  symposia  the  pleasures 
of  the  table  were  improved  by  lively  and  liberal  conver- 
sation ;  the  company  was  select,  though  various  and 
voluntary.* 

*  JocRSAL,  Febraary  23,  1763  ]— I  paid  a  visit  to  the  Abbe  de  la  Ble- 
terie, who  wished  to  take  me  to  the  Duchess  of  Aiguillon's ;  I  wrote  to  M. 
de  Bougainville,  whom  I  much  wished  to  become  acquainted  with,  and  I 
afterwards  went  to  Baron  d'Olbach's  the  friend  of  M.  Helvetius.  This 
was  my  first  visit,  and  the  first  step  made  into  a  very  good  house.  Tlie 
Baron  possesses  genius  and  learning,  and,  above  all,  he  very  often  gives 
capital  dinners. 

f  ebniary  24.] — The  Abh6  Barthelemy  is  a  very  amiable  man,  and  has 


152 


MR.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS. 


The  society  of  Madame  du  Bocage  was  more  soft  and 
moderate  than  that  of  her  rivals,  and  the  evening  conver- 
sations of  M.  de  Foncemagne  were  supported  by  the 
good  sense  and  learning  of  the  principal  members  of  the 
Academy  of  Inscriptions.  The  opera  and  the  Italians  I 
occasionally  visited ;  but  the  French  theatre,  both  in 
tragedy  and  comedy,  was  my  daily  and  favourite  amuse- 
nothing  of  the  antiquary  about  him  but  a  great  depth  of  erndition.  I 
finished  the  evening  by  a  very  agreeable  supper  at  Madame  Bontem's  with 
the  Marquis  de  Mirabeau.  He  is  a  singular  man;  he  has  imagination 
enough  for  ten  more,  and  not  enough  sound  sense  for  himself  alone.  I 
asked  him  several  questions  about  the  titles  of  the  French  nobility ;  but  all 
I  could  understand  was,  that  nobody  has  very  clear  ideas  about  them. 

May,  1763.] — Fortified  with  a  double  letter  of  recommendation  for  the 
Comte  de  Caylus,  I  imagined  that  I  should  find,  united  in  him,  the  man  of 
letters  and  the  man  of  quality.  I  saw  him  three  or  four  times,  and  found 
him  a  simple,  ingenuous,  good  man,  who  showed  me  the  utmost  kind- 
ness. If  I  have  not  profited  more  by  him  I  attribute  it  less  to  his  cha- 
racter than  to  his  mode  of  life.  He  rises  early,  runs  thi'ough  the  aatists, 
painting.rooms  all  day  long,  comes  home  again  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
puts  on  his  dressing-gown,  and  shuts  himself  up  in  his  closet.  Is  this  the 
way  to  see  one's  friends. 

If  these  recommendations  were  fruitless,  there  were  others  which  were 
as  productive  in  their  effects  as  they  were  agreeable  in  themselves.  In  a 
capital  like  Paris,  it  is  just  and  necessary  that  you  should  be  distinguished 
from  the  crowd  by  letters  of  recommendation,  but  when  the  ice  is  once 
broken,  your  acquaintance  multiply  themselves,  and  your  new  friends  feel 
pleasure  in  introducing  you  to  others  newer  still.  A  most  happy  efiect  of 
the  light  and  amiable  character  of  the  French,  which  has  established 
in  Paris  a  suavity  and  liberty  in  society,  unknown  to  antiquity  and  still 
unknown  to  other  nations.  At  Loudon  one  must  make  one's  way  into  each 
house,  which  opens  to  us  with  the  utmost  difficulty.  There  they  think 
they  afford  you  pleasure  iu  receiving  you  ;  here  they  feel  pleasure  in  it 
themselves.  So  that  I  am  acquainted  with  more  houses  in  Paris  than  in 
London  ;  the  fact  is  not  probable,  but  it  is  true. 


MR.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS.  153 

ment.  Two  famous  actresses  then  divided  the  public 
applause.  For  my  own  part,  I  preferred  the  consum- 
mate art  of  the  Clairon,  to  the  intemperate  sallies  of  the 
Dumesnil,  which  were  extolled  by  her  admirers,  as  the 
genuine  voice  of  nature  and  passion.  Fourteen  weeks 
insensibly  stole  away ;  but  had  I  been  rich  and  indepen- 
dent, I  should  have  prolonged,  and  perhaps  have  fixed, 
my  residence  at  Paris. 

Between  the  expensive  style  of  Paris  and  of  Italy  it  was 
prudent  to  interpose  some  months  of  tranquil  simplicity ; 
and  at  the  thoughts  of  Lausanne  I  again  lived  in  the 
pleasures  and  studies  of  my  early  youth.  Shaping  my 
course  through  Dijon  and  Besangon,  in  the  last  of  which 
places  I  was  kindly  entertained  by  my  cousin  Acton,  I 
arrived  in  the  month  of  May,  1763,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Leman  Lake.  It  had  been  my  intention  to  pass  the  Alps 
in  the  autumn,  but  such  are  the  simple  attractions  of  the 
place,  that  the  year  had  almost  expired  before  my  depar- 
ture from  Lausanne  in  the  ensuing  spring.  An  absence 
of  five  years  had  not  made  much  alteration  in  manners,  or 
even  in  persons.  My  old  friends,  of  both  sexes,  hailed 
my  voluntary  return ;  the  most  genuine  proof  of  my 
attachment.  They  had  been  flattered  by  the  present  of 
my  book,  the  produce  of  their  soil ;  and  the  good  Pavil- 
liard  shed  tears  of  joy  as  he  embraced  a  pupil,  whose 
literary  merit  he  might  fairly  impute  to  his  own  labours. 
To  my  old  list,  I  added  some  new  acquaintance,  and 
among  the  strangers  I  shall  distinguish  Prince  Lewis  of 
Wirtemberg,  the  brother  of  the  reigning  Duke,  at  whose 
country-house,  near  Lausanne,  I  frequently  dined :  a  wan- 
dering meteor,  and  at  length  a  falling  star,  his  light  and 


154 


MR.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS. 


ambitious  spii'it  haJ  successively  dropped  from  tlie  firma- 
ment of  Prussia,  of  France,  and  of  Austria  ;  and  his  faults, 
which  he  styled  his  misfortunes,  had  driven  him  into  philo- 
sophic exile  in  the  Pays  de  Vaud.  He  could  now 
moralize  on  the  vanity  of  the  world,  the  equality  of  man- 
kind, and  the  happiness  of  a  private  station.  His  address 
was  affable  and  polite,  and  as  he  had  shone  in  courts 
and  armies,  his  memory  could  supply,  and  his  eloquence 
could  adorn,  a  copious  fund  of  interesting  anecdotes. 
His  first  enthusiasm  was  that  of  charity  and  agriculture; 
but  the  sage  gradually  lapsed  into  the  saint,  and  Prince 
Lewis  of  Wirtemberg  is  now  buried  in  a  hermitage  near 
Mayence,  in  the  last  stage  of  mystic  devotion.  By  some 
ecclesiastical  quarrel,  Voltaire  had  been  provoked  to 
withdraw  himself  from  Lausanne,  and  retired  to  his 
castle  at  Ferney,  where  I  again  visited  the  poet  and  the 
actor  without  seeking  his  more  intimate  acquaintance,  to 
which  I  might  now  have  pleaded  a  better  title.  But  the 
theatre  which  he  had  founded,  the  actors  whom  he  had 
formed,  survived  the  loss  of  their  master;  and  recent 
from  Paris,  I  attended  with  pleasure  at  the  representation 
of  several  tragedies  and  comedies.  I  shall  not  descend 
to  specify  particular  names  and  characters ;  but  I  cannot 
forget  a  private  institution,  which  will  display  the  inno- 
cent freedom  of  Swiss  manners.  My  favourite  society 
had  assumed,  from  the  age  of  its  members,  the  proud 
denomination  of  the  Spring  (la  Societe  du  Printemps). 
It  consisted  of  fifteen  or  twenty  young  unmarried  ladies, 
of  genteel,  though  not  of  the  very  first  families ;  the 
eldest  perhaps  about  twenty,  all  agreeable,  several  hand- 
some, and  two  or  three  of  exquisite  beauty.    At  each 


MB.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS. 


155 


Other's  houses  they  assembled  almost  every  day,  without 
the  control,  or  even  the  presence,  of  a  mother  or  an  aunt ; 
they  were  trusted  to  their  own  prudence,  among  a  crowd 
of  young  men  of  every  nation  in  Europe.  They  laughed, 
they  sung,  they  danced,  they  played  at  cards,  "they  acted 
comedies  ;  but  in  the  midst  of  this  careless  gaiety,  they 
respected  themselves,  and  were  respected  by  the  men ; 
the  invisible  line  between  liberty  and  licentiousness  was 
never  transgressed  by  a  gesture,  a  word,  or  a  look,  and 
their  virgin  chastity  was  never  sullied  by  the  breath  of 
scandal  or  suspicion.  A  singular  institution,  expressive 
of  the  innocent  simplicity  of  Swiss  manners.  After  having 
tasted  the  luxury  of  England  and  Paris,  I  could  not  havo 
returned  with  satisfaction  to  the  coarse  and  homely 
table  of  Madame  Pavilliard ;  nor  was  her  husband  offended 
that  I  now  entered  myself  as  a  pensionnaii-e,  or  boarder, 
in  the  elegant  house  of  Mr.  De  Mesery,  which  may  be 
entitled  to  a  short  remembrance,  as  it  has  stood  above 
twenty  years,  perhaps,  without  a  parallel  in  Europe.  The 
house  in  which  we  lodged  was  spacious  and  convenient, 
in  the  best  street,  and  commanding,  from  behind,  a  noble 
prospect  over  the  country  and  the  Lake.  Our  table  was 
served  with  neatness  and  plenty;  the  boarders  were 
select ;  we  had  the  liberty  of  inviting  any  guests  at  a 
stated  price:  and  in  the  summer  the  scene  was  occa- 
sionally transferred  to  a  pleasant  villa,  about  a  league 
from  Lausanne.  The  characters  of  master  and  mistress 
were  happily  suited  to  each  other,  and  to  their  situation. 
At  the  age  of  seventy-five,  Madame  de  Mesery,  who 
has  survived  her  husband,  is  still  a  graceful,  and  I  had 
almost  said,  a  handsome  woman.    She  was  alike  quali- 


156 


MB.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS. 


fied  to  preside  in  her  kitchen  and  her  drawing-room, 
and  such  was  the  equal  propriety  of  her  conduct,  that  of 
two  or  ^three  hundred  foreigners,  none  ever  failed  in  re- 
spect, none  could  complain  of  her  neglect,  and  none  could 
ever  boast  of  her  favour.  Mesery  himself,  of  the  noble 
family  of  De  Crousaz,  was  a  man  of  the  world,  a  jovial 
companion,  whose  easy  manners  and  natural  sallies 
maintained  the  cheerfulness  of  his  house.  His  wit 
could  laugh  at  his  own  ignorance ;  he  disguised,  by 
an  air  of  profusion,  a  strict  attention  to  his  interest ;  and 
in  this  situation,  he  appeared  like  a  nobleman  who  spent 
his  fortune  and  entertained  his  friends.  In  this  agreeable 
society  I  resided  nearly  eleven  months  (May,  1763 — April 
1764) ;  and  in  this  second  visit  to  Lausanne,  among  a 
crowd  of  my  English  companions,  I  knew  and  esteemed 
Mr.  Holroyd  (now  Lord  Sheffield);  and  our  mutual  attach- 
ment was  renewed  and  fortified  in  the  subsequent  stages 
of  our  Italian  journey.  Our  lives  are  in  the  power  of 
chance,  and  a  slight  variation  on  either  side,  in  time  or 
place,  might  have  deprived  me  of  a  friend,  whose  activity 
in  the  ardour  of  youth  was  always  prompted  by  a  be- 
nevolent heart,  and  directed  by  a  strong  understanding.* 

*  Journal,  September  16,  1763,]— ****  and  ****  have  left  us.  The 
former  is  a  vile  beast,  gross,  igaorant,  and  unmannerly.  His  violence  has 
got  him  into  twenty  scrapes  hero.  However,  they  would  have  had  him 
make  the  journey  to  "Italy,  but  ***"  refusing  to  accompany  him,  they  have 
resolved  to  send  for  him  back  again  to  England  via  Paris.  ****  is  a  phi- 
losopher, and  very  well  read,  but  cold  and  not  at  all  a  man  of  talent.  He  is 
weary  of  running  over  the  world  with  young  bloclvlieads.  After  having 
returned  this  one  back  to  his  family,  lie  expects  to  come  and  seek  repose 
and  sPclusion  in  this  country.    How  right  he  is  ! 

September  21.] — I  have  sustained  a  slight  mortification  at  the  society. 


MR.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS. 


157 


Frey's  departiire  had  occasioned  the  ofBce  of  Btrangers'  director  to  be  va- 
cant. It  was  intimated  that  it  was  intended  for  me,  and  my  natural  frank- 
ness had  not  permitted  me  to  conceal  that  I  should  be  glad  to  accept  it, 
and  that  I  was  in  expectation  of  it.  Nevertheless,  the  majority  of  votes 
gave  it  to  M.  Roel  Hollandois.  I  saw  that  they  had  taken  advantage  of 
the  very  first  moment  the  laws  allowed  for  balloting,  and  that,  if  1  had 
wished  to  assemble  my  friends,  I  might  have  gained  it ;  but  I  know,  at  the 
same  time,  that  I  should  have  had  it  three  months  ago  without  a  moment's 
care  about  it.  My  reputation  is,  with  some  reason,  declining  here,  and  I 
have  enemies. 

September  25.] — I  have  passed  the  afternoon  at  Madame  de  ****'b. 
I  had  not  seen  her  since  the  14th  of  this  month.  She  has  not  spoken  a  single 
word  about  me,  or  appeared  to  have  noticed  my  absence.  This  silence 
has  hurt  me.  I  had  a  very  good  reputation  here  for  morality,  but  I  see 
they  now  begin  to  confound  me  with'my  feUow-countrymen,  and  to  look 
npon  me  as  a  man  who  loves  wine  and  dissipation. 

October  15.] — I  have  passed  the  afternoon  at  Madame  de  Mesery's.  She 
•wished  to  introduce  me  to  a  young  French  lady,  whom  she  had  invited  to 
supper.  This  young  lady,  who  calls  herself  Le  Franc,  is  six  feet  high.  Her 
stature,  countenance,  voice,  and  conversation,  all  announce  the  most  de- 
termined grenadier,  but  a  grenadier  who  has  talent,  intelligence,  and 
knowledge  of  the  world.  So  that  her  stx,  name,  and  condition  are  all  a 
mystery.  She  says  she  is  a  Parisian  lady  of  quality,  who  has  retired  into 
this  country  on  account  of  her  reUgiou  May  it  not  rather  be  on  account 
of  an  affair  of  honour  ? 

Lausanne,  December  1763.] — I  got  up  late,  and  a  very  friendly  visit 
from  M.  de  Chandieu  VUlars*  took  away  what  was  left  of  the  morning. 
M.  de.  Chandieu  has  served  with  distinction  in  France,  and  retired  with 
the  rank  of  field-marshal.  He  is  a  man  of  great  politeness,  of  a  free  and 
lively  spirit ;  and  now,  at  sixty,  he  would  form  the  agreeable  attraction  in 
a  company  of  young  ladies.  He  is  almost  the  only  foreigner  who  has  sue-  • 
ceededin  acquiring  the  ease  of  French  manners,  without  at  the  same  time 
faUing  into  bullying  and  blustering  airs. 

Lausanne,  December,  18,  1763,] — This  was  Commimion  Sunday.  Re- 
ligious ceremonies  are  well  observed  in  this  country.    They  are  rare,  and 

*  The  father  of  Madame  de  Severy,  whose  family  were  Mr.  Gibbon's 
most  intimate  friends,  after  he  had  settled  at  Lausanne  in  the  year  1783, — S. 


158 


MR.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS. 


on  that  very  account  more  respected.  Old  folks  complain,  indeed,  of  the 
cooling  of  devotion  ;  but  a  day  like  this  still  affords  an  edifying  spectacle. 
There  is  neither  business  nor  parties  ;  and  they  interdict  even  whist,  so 
necessary  to  the  very  existence  of  a  Lausannese. 

December  31.] — Let  us  glance  back  at  this  year  1763,  and  see  how  I 
have  employed  this  portion  of  my  existence,  which  is  passed  away,  and 
will  never  return.  The  month  of  January  was  spent  in  the  bosom  of  my 
family,  to  whom  I  was  forced  to  sacrifice  all  my  time,  for  it  was  the  last 
part  of  my  stay,  and  mingled  with  the  cares  of  departure  and  the  bustle  of 
a  journey.  In  that  journey,  however,  I  found  means  of  reading  the  letters 
of  Busequius,  imperial  minister  at  the  Port.  They  are  equally  interesting 
and  instructive.  I  remained  at  Paris  from  the  28th  of  January  to  the  9th 
of  May.  During  all  this  time,  I  did  not  study  at  all.  Amusements  took  up 
a  great  deal  of  my  time,  and  the  habit  of  dissipation,  which  is  so  easily  ac- 
quired in  large  cities,  did  not  allow  me  to  profit  by  what  remained.  In- 
deed, if  I  turned  over  but  few  books,  the  observation  of  all  the  curious  ob- 
jects which  are  presented  to  view  in  a  large  metropolis,  and  conversation 
with  the  greatest  men  of  the  age,  tiuight  me  many  things  that  are  not  to 
be  found  in  books.  The  last  seven  or  eight  months  of  the  year  have  been 
more  ti-anquil.  When  I  found  myself  settled  at  Lausanne,  I  undertook  a 
consecutive  course  of  study  on  the  ancient  geography  of  Italy.  My  enthu- 
siasm kept  up  very  well  for  six  weeks,  tiU  the  end  of  the  month  of  June. 
Then,  a  journey  to  Geneva  a  little  interrupted  my  diligence.  Mesery's 
dwelling  presented  a  thousand  attractions,  and  Saussure's  society  put  the 
finishing  stroke  to  the  loss  of  my  time.  I  resumed  my  work  at  this  Jour- 
nal about  the  middle  of  August,  and  from  that  time  to  the  beginning  of 
November,  I  put  every  instant  to  profit.  I  must  confess,  that  during  the 
last  two .  months  my  ardour  is  a  littlo  slackened.  I.  In  this  course  of 
study  I  read,  1.  Nearly  two  books  of  Strabo's  Geography  upon  Italy,  twice 
over.  2.  Part  of  the  second  book  of  Pliny's  Natural  Histoiy.  3.  The 
fourth  chapter  of  the  second  book  of  Pomponious  Mela.  4.  The  Itineraries 
of  Antoninus  and  Jerusalem,  as  far  as  regards  Italy.  I  read  them  with  the 
Commentaries  of  Wcsaelling,  &c.  I  have  exti-acted  tables  of  all  the  groat 
roads  in  Italy,  every  where  reducing  the  Roman  into  English  miles,  ac- 
cording to  the  calculations  of  M.  d'Anville.  5.  The  History  of  the  Great 
Roman  Empire,  by  M.  Bergier,  2  vols.  4to.  6.  Some  select  extracts  from 
Cicero,  Livy,  Velleius  Paterculus,  Tacitus,  and  tho  tviro  Pliniea.  The 
Roma  Vetus  of  Nardini,  and  several  other  little  treatises  on  tho  same  6ub- 


MR.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS. 


159 


ject,  vvliich  compose  almost  all  the  fourth  volume  of  Graevius'  Tresor  des 
Antiquites  Romaiiies.  7.  The  Italia  Antiqua  of  Cluverius,  2  vols,  folio. 
8.  The  Iter  (or  Journey)  of  Claudius  Rutilius  Numatianus  among  the 
Gauls.  9.  Virgil's  Catalogues.  10.  That  of  Silius  ItaUcus.  11.  Horace's 
Journey  to  BrUndusium.  N.  B.  These  last  three  I  read  twice  over>  12. 
D'An\'ille'a  Treatise  on  the  Itinerary  Measures,  and  some  Memoires  of  the 
Acad6mie  des  Belles  Lettres.  II.  I  had  to  wait  for  Nardini  from  the 
library  of  Geneva  ;  I  wished  to  fill  up  this  spare  moment  in  reading  Ju- 
venal, a  poet  whom  I  as  yet  knew  only  by  reputation.  I  read  hiui  twice 
over  carefully,  and  with  pleasure.  III.  During  the  year,  I  have  read 
some  periodicals  ;  among  others,  the  Journal  Etranger,  from  its  commence- 
ment, a  volume  of  Bayle's  Nouvelles,  and  the  first  35  volumes  of  the 
Bibliotheque  raisonnee.  IV.  I  have  written  a  great  deal  of  my  Recueil 
Geogai'phique  d'ltalie,  which  is  already  very  ample,  and  tolerably  curious. 
V.  I  ought  not  to  forget  this  very  Journal,  which  has  grown  into  a  book; 
2141  well  filled  pages,  in  four  months  and  a  half,  are  a  considerable  object. 
For,  without  reckoning  a  great  number  of  detached  observations,  there  are 
in  it  several  learned  and  orderly  dissertations.  That  upon  Hannibal's 
expedition  includes  ten  pages,  and  that  on  the  civil  war  twelve.  But 
these  pieces  are  too  long,  and  the  Journal  itself  stands  in  need  of  a  reform, 
which  should  retrench  from  it  a  number  of  pieces  that  are  foreign  to  its 
real  plan.  After  having  reflected  some  time  upon  the  subject,  here  are 
some  rules  that  *I  have  made  on  the  objects  that  are  proper  for  it.  I. 
All  my  domestic  and  private  life,  my  amusements,  connexions,  and  even 
my  rambles  ;  as  well  as  all  the  reflections  that  sti-ike  me  on  subjects  that 
are  merely  personal.  I  allow  that  all  this  is  interesting  only  to  myself, 
but  then  it  is  only  for  myself  that  I  write  this  Journal.  II.  All  that  I 
learn  by  observation  and  conversation.  With  respect  to  this,  I  shall  only 
put  down  what  I  have  from  persons,  who  are  at  once  both  perfectly  well 
informed  and  honest,  when  it  regards  facts,  or  from  that  small  number  who 
merit  the  title  of  great  men,  when  it  regards  sentiments  and  opinions.  III. 
I  shall  carefully  put  in  it  all  that  may  be  termed  the  material  part  of  my 
ctadies  ;  how  many  hours  I  have  worked,  how  many  pages  I  have  vi^ritten 
or  read,  with  a  short  notice  of  their  contents.  IV.  I  should  be  sorry  to 
read  without  reflecting  on  my  readings,  giving  correct  judgments  upon  my 
authors,  and  carefully  culling  their  ideas  and  expressions.  But  all  reading 
does  not  alii<e  furnish  them.  There  are  books  to  be  skimmed  over,  and 
books  to  be  read.    My  observations  ou  those  of  the  first  class  can  only 


160 


MR.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS. 


be  short  and  detached.  These  will  be  proper  for  the  Journal.  Those 
on  the  second  class  will  only  enter  it  so  far  as  they  may  come  under  the 
eame  chai-acter.  V.  My  reflections  on  those  few  classic  authors  that  are  to 
bo  carefully  meditated  upon,  will  naturally  be  deeper,  and  more  consecu- 
tive. For  them,  and  for  more  lengthy  and  original  dissertations,  which 
reading  or  reflection  may  give  rise  to,  I  shall  make  a  separate  collection. 
I  shall,  nevertheless,  preserve  its  connexion  with  the  Journal  by  constant 
references  which  will  mark  the  number  of  each  treatise,  together  with 
the  time  and  occasion  of  its  composition.  Making  use  of  these  precau- 
tions, my  Journal  cannot  but  be  useful  to  me.  This  exact  account  of  my 
time  will  make  me  more  justly  appreciate  its  value  it  will,  by  its  minute- 
ness, dissipate  the  illusion  that  we  fall  into  of  looking  only  at  months 
and  years,  and  neglectiug  hours  and  days.  I  say  nothing  of  the 
pleasure  of  it.  It  is,  however,  a  very  great  one  to  be  able  to  re\'iew  each 
epoch  of  one's  life,  and,  whenever  we  please,  to  place  ourselves  in  the 
midst  of  all  the  httle  scenes  that  we  have  formerly  acted,  or  seen 
acted. 

April  6,  1764.] — I  was  awakened  by  PaviUiard  and  H****,  in  order 
to  put  a  stop  to  an  unfortunate  affair,  which  took  place  at  the  ball  after 
we  left.  G****,  who  has  for  a  long  time  paid  his  addresses  to  Miss  ****, 
was  grieved  to  see  that  ****  threatened  to  supplant  him.  He  rephed  to 
his  rival's  politeness  only  by  rudeness;  and,  at  last,  on  a  dispute  for  Miss 
**»*'s  hand,  he  treated  him  in  the  worst  possible  manner,  and  called  him, 
before  every  body,  "  a  fool,"  &c.  I  understood  from  PaviUiard,  that 
*****  had  sent  him  a  challenge,  and,  that  G****'s  answer  not  having 
satisfied  him,  they  were  to  have  a  meeting  at  five  o'clock  this  evening. 
Being  exceedingly  vexed  to  see  my  friend  engaged  in  an  afiair  which 
could  not  but  do  him  wrong,  I  hastened  to  the  house  of  M.  de  Crousaz, 
where  ****  hved.  I  soon  saw  that  it  merely  needed  a  very  slight  ex- 
planation, added  to  some  sort  of  apology  from  G****,  to  appease  him,  and 
I  went  to  the  house  of  the  latter  with  H****,  to  request  him  to  give  it. 
We  convinced  him  that  the  acknowldgment  of  a  real  fault  was  never 
injurious  to  honour,  and  tluit  his  insult  to  the  ladies,  as  well  as  to  ****,  was 
inexcusable.  I  dictated  to  him  an  appropriate  note,  but  without  the  least 
meanness,  which  I  carried  to  the  Dutchman.  He  laid  down  his  arms 
immediately,  returned  him  the  most  polite  answer,  and  thanked  me  a 
thousand  times  for  the  part  I  had  acted.  Indeed,  he  is  by  no  means  an 
untractable  man.    After  dinner,  I  saw  the  ladies,  to  whom  I  took  an 


ME.  GIBBON  AT  PARIS. 


161 


apologizing  note.  The  mother  was  willing  to  accept  G****'8  excuses  ; 
but  Miss  ****  is  afflicted  at  the  injury  this  affair  may  do  her  with  the  world. 
This  business  has  occupied  me  the  whole  day ;  but  could  it  have  beea 
better  employed  than  in  saving  the  life,  perhaps,  of  two  persons,  and  in 
preserving  a  friend's  reputation  ?  Besides,  I  have  seen  deeply  into  more 
than  one  character.  G***"  is  brave,  true,  and  sensible,  but  has  an  impe- 
tuosity that  is  only  the  more  dangerous  for  being  ordinarily  suppressed. 
C****  is  as  rude  as  a  school-boy.  De  S****  has  an  indifference,  which  is 
much  more  attributable  to  a  defect  of  sensibility  than  to  an  excess  of 
reason.  I  have  conceived  a  real  friendship  for  H****.  He  has  a  high 
degree  of  rationality  and  honourable  sentiments,  with  one  of  the  best  regu- 
lated hearts, 


CHAP.  XVII. 


MR.  GIBBON  PREPARES  FOR  HIS-  ITALIAN  JOURNEY. 

If  my  studies  at  Paris  had  been  confined  to  the 
study  of  the  world,  three  or  four  months  would  not 
have  been  unprofitably  spent.  My  visits,  however  super- 
ficial, to  the  Academy  of  Medals  and  the  public  libraries, 
opened  a  new  field  of  inquiry  ;  and  the  view  of  so  many 
manuscripts  of  different  ages  and  characters  induced  me 
to  consult  the  two  great  Benedictine  works,  the  Diplo- 
matica  of  Mabillon,and  the  Palteographia  of  Montfaucon. 
I  studied  the  theory  without  attaining  the  practice  of  the 
art;  nor  should  I  complain  of  the  intricacy  of  Greek 
abbreviations  and  Gothic  alphabets,  since  every  day,  in 
a  familiar  language,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  decypher  the  hiero- 
glyphics of  a  female  note.  In  a  tranquil  scene,  which 
revived  the  memory  of  my  first  studies,  idleness  would 
have  been  less  pardonable  :  the  public  libraries  of  Lau- 
sanne and  Geneva  liberally  supplied  me  with  books ;  and 
if  many  hours  were  lost  in  dissipation,  many  more  were 
employed  in  literary  labour.  In  the  country,  Horace  and 
Vir'gil,  Juvenal  and  Ovid,  were  my  assiduous  compa- 
nions :  but,  in  town,  I  formed  and  executed  a  plan  of 
study  for  the  use  of  my  transalpine  expedition  :  the  topo- 
graphy of  old  Rome,  the  ancient  geography  of  Italy,  and 
the  science  of  medals.    I,  I  diligently  read,  almost  always 


MR.  GIBBON  PREPARES  FOR  HIS  ITALIAN  JOURNEY  163 


with  my  pen  in  my  hand,  the  elaborate  treatises  of 
Nardini,  Donatus,  (fee,  which  fill  the  fourth  volume  of 
the  Roman  Antiquities  of  Grsevius,  2.  I  next  undertook 
and  finished  the  Italia  Antiqua  of  Cluvcrius,  a  learned 
native  of  Prussia,  who  had  measured,  on  foot,  every  spot, 
and  has  compiled  and  digested  every  passage  of  the 
ancient  writers.  These  passages  in  Greek  or  Latin 
authors  I  perused  in  the  text  of  Cluverius,  in  two  folio 
volumes :  bil»  I  separately  read  the  descriptions  of  Italy 
by  Strabo,  Pliny,  and  Pomponius  Mela,  the  Catalogues  of 
the  Epic  poets,  the  Itineraries  of  Wesselling's  Antonius, 
and  the  coasting  Voyage  of  Rutilius  Mumatianus  ;  and  I 
studied  two  kindred  subjects  in  the  Mesures  Itineraires  of 
D'Anville,  and  the  copious  work  of  Bergier,  Histoire  des 
grands  Chemins  de  I'Empire  Remain.  From  these  mate- 
rials I  formed  a  table  of  roads  and  distances  reduced  to 
our  English  measure ;  filled  a  folio  common-place  book 
with  my  collections  and  remarks  on  the  geography  of 
Italy,  and  inserted  in  my  journal  many  long  and  learned 
notes  on  the  insulse  and  populousness  of  Rome,  the  social 
war,  the  passage  of  the  Alps  by  Hannibal,  &c.  3.  After 
glancing  my  eye  over  Addison's  agreeable  dialogues,  I 
more  seriously  read  the  great  work  of  Ezechiel  Span- 
heim  de  Prsestantia  et  Usu  Numismatum,  and  applied 
with  him  the  medals  of  the  kings  and  emperors,  the  fami- 
lies and  colonies,  to  the  illustration  of  ancient  history. 
And  thus  was  I  armed  for  my  Italian  journey.* 

Journal,  Lausanne,  April  17,  1764.] — Guise  and  myself  gave  an  ex- 
cellent dinner  and  plenty  of  wine  to  Dupleix  and  several  others.  After 
dinner,  we  made  our  escape  to  pay  some  visits  to  the  ****,  the  ****,  and 
the  ****.    I  leave  with  some  regret:  but  a  little  wine,  and  a  cheerfulness 


164   MR.  GIBBON  PREPARES  FOR  HIS  ITALIAN  JOURNEY. 


that  I  could  not  account  for,  gave  me  an  unparralleled  impudence  with  these 
little  lasses.  I  said  a  hundred  nonsensical  things  to  them,  and  we  em- 
braced  each  other  with  a  laugh.  Mesery  gave  us  a  very  prime  supper, 
with  some  .of  the  morning's  company,  increased  by  the  addition  of  Bour- 
geois and  Pavilliard.  This  supper,  the  adieux  to  Pavilliard  especially, 
(whom  I  sincerely  love,)  and  the  preparations  for  departure,  occupied  me 
tiU  two  in  the  morning.  I  leave  Lausanne  with  less  regret  than  at  the  first 
time.  I  now  only  leave  acquaintances  there.  Then,  it  was  the  loss  of  the 
mistress  and  the  friend  that  I  deplored.  Formerly,  I  saw  Lausanne  with 
the  inexperienced  eyes  of  a  youth,  who  owed  to  it  the  rational  part  of  his 
existence,  and  who  judged  without  comparison  of  objec|p.  Now  I  see  in 
it  an  iU-built  town,  in  the  midst  of  a  delightful  coimtry,  which  enjoys 
peace  and  repose,  and  takes  them  to  be  liberty ;  a  numerous  and  well- 
educated  population,  who  are  fond  of  society,  and  judicious  in  the  conduct 
of  it,  and  who  admit  strangers  into  their  circles,  which  would  be  much 
more  agreeable  if  conversation  had  not  given  place  to  play.  The  women 
are  pretty,  and  notwithstanding  their  extensive  liberty,  are  very  prudent 
At  the  farthest,  they  can  only  be  a  little  complaisant  in  the  innocent  but 
uncertain  hope  of  entangling  a  stranger  in  their  nets.  Affectation  is  the 
original  sin  of  the  Lausannese ;  affectation  of  magnificence,  nobihty,  and 
talent ;  the  two  first  are  very  common,  while  the  latter  is  extremely  rare. 
As  this  vice  is  constantly  clashing  with  the  same  quality  in  others,  Lausanne 
is  divided  into  a  great  number  of  states,  whose  principles  and  language  are 
infinitely  varied,  and  which  have  nothing  in  common  but  their  reciprocal 
hatred  for  each  other.  Their  taste  for  expense  accords  but  badly  with 
that  for  nobility.  They  would  perish  sooner  than  renounce  their  grandeur, 
or  embrace  the  only  profession  that  would  support  them.  M.  Mesery's  is 
a  dehghtful  house  ;  the  open  and  generous  character  of  the  husband,  the 
engaging  qualities  of  the  wife,  a  charming  situation ,  excellent  cheer,  the 
company  of  his  fellow-countrymen,  and  an  unrestrained  freedom,  make 
every  English  love  the  dwelling.  Oh,  that  I  could  find  a  similar  one  in 
Loudon !    I  regret  leaving  Holroyd,  who  is,  however,  following  us  close. 


CHAP.  XVIII. 
MR.  GIBBON'S  TOUR  IN  ITALY. 

I  shall  advance  with  rapid  brevity  in  the  narrative  of 
this  tour,  in  which  somewhat  more  than  a  year  (April, 
1764 — May,  1765)  was  agreeably  employed.  Content 
with  tracing  my  line  of  march,  and  slightly  touching  on 
my  personal  feelings,  I  shall  waive  the  minute  investiga- 
tion of  the  scenes  which  have  been  viewed  by  thousands, 
and  described  by  hundreds,  of  our  modem  travellers. 
Rome  is  the  great  object  of  our  pilgrimage:  1st,  the 
journey  ;  2d,  the  residence  ;  and  3d,  the  return,  will  form 
the  most  proper  and  conspicuous  division.    1.  I  climbed 
Mount  Cenis,  and  descended  into  the  plain  of  Piedmont, 
not  on  the  back  of  an  elephant,  but  on  a  light  osier  seat, 
in  the  hands  of  the  dexterous  and  intrepid  chairman  of 
the  Alps.    The  architecture  and  government  of  Turin 
presented  the  same  aspect  of  tame  and  tiresome  uni- 
formity ;  but  the  court  was  regulated  with  decent  and 
splendid  economy  ;  and  I  was  introduced  to  his  Sardinian 
Majesty,*  Charles  Emanuel,  who,  after  the  incomparable 
Frederic,  held  the  second  rank  (proximus  longo  tamen 
intervallo)  among  the  kings  of  Europe.    The  size  and 
populousness  of  Milan  could  not  surprise  an  inhabitant  of 

*  See  Letter,  No.  XVIII. 


ICC 


MR.  GIBBON'S  TOUR  IN  ITALY. 


London  :  but  the  fancy  is  amused  by  a  visit  to  the  Borro- 
mean  islands,  an  enchanted  palace,  a  work  of  the  fairies 
in  the  midst  of  a  lake  encompassed  with  mountains,  and 
far  removed  from  the  haunts  of  men.  I  was  less  amused 
by  the  marble  palaces  of  Genoa  than  by  the  recent 
memorials  of  her  deliverance  (in  December,  1746)  from 
the  Austrian  tyranny;  and  I  took  a  military  survey  of 
every  scene  of  action  within  the  enclosure  of  her  double 
walls.  My  steps  were  detained  at  Parma  and  Modena, 
by  the  precious  relics  of  the  Farncse  and  Este  collec- 
tions :  but,  alas  !  the  far  greater  part^had  been  already 
transported,  by  inheritance  or  purchase,  to  Naples  and 
Dresden.  By  the  road  of  Bologna  and  the  Appenines,  1 
at  last  reached  Florence,  where  I  reposed  from  June  to 
September,  during  the  heat  of  the  summer  months.  In 
the  Gallery,  and  especially  in  the  Tribune,  I  first  acknow- 
ledged, at  the  feet  of  the  Venus  of  Medicis,  that  the 
chisel  may  dispute  the  pre-eminence  with  the  pencil,  a 
truth  in  the  fine  arts  which  cannot  on  this  side  of  the 
Alps  be  felt  or  understood.  At  home  I  had  taken  some 
lessons  of  Italian:  on  the  spot  I  read,  with  a  learned 
native,  the  classics  of  the  Tuscan  idiom :  but  the  short- 
ness of  my  time,  and  the  use  of  the  French  language, 
prevented  my  acquiring  any  facility  of  speaking  ;  and  I 
was  a  silent  spectator  in  the  conversations  of  our  envoy, 
t  Sir  Horace  Mann,  whose  most  serious  bus"ness  was  that 
of  entertaining  the  English  at  hi3   hospitable  table.* 

*  Journal,  Florence,  August  9,  17C4.] — Cocclii  iliiied  with  us.  Wo 
chatted  a  good  deal,  but  I  did  not  find  in  Lim  the  genius  that  is  attiibuted  to 
him  !  perhaps  because  our  minds  are  not  analogous.  I  can  perceive  extra- 
vagance in  Lis  ideas,  and  affectation  in  his  manners.    He  is  every  moment 


MR  GIBBON'S  TOUR  IN  ITALY. 


After  leaving  Florence,  I  compared  the  solitude  of  Pisa 
with  the  industry  of  Lucca  and  Leghorn,  and  continued 
my  journey  through  Sienna  to  Rome,  where  I  arrived  in 
the  beginning  of  October.  2.  My  temper  is  not  very 
susceptible  of  enthusiasm ;  and  tJie  enthusiasm  which  I 
do  not  feel,  I  have  ever  scorned  to  aflect.  But,  at  the 
distance  of  twenty-five  years,  I  can  neither  forget  nor 
express  the  strong  emotions  which  agitated  my  mind  as  I 
first  approached  and  entered  the  eternal  city.  After  a  sleep- 
less night,  I  trod,  with  a  lofty  step,  the  ruins  of  the 
Forum ;  each  memorable  spot  where  Romulus  stood,  or 
Tully  spoke,  or  Cajsar  fell,  was  at  once  present  to  my 
eye ;  and  several  days  of  intoxication  were  lost  or  enjoyed 
before  I  could  descend  to  a  cool  and  minute  investiga- 
tion. My  guide  was  Mr.  Byers,  a  Scotch  antiquary  of 
experience  and  taste  ;  but,  in  the  daily  labour  of  eighteen 
weeks,  the  powers  of  attention  were  sometimes  fatigued, 
till  I  was  myself  qualified,  in  a  last  review,  to  select  and 
study  the  capital  works  of  ancient  ?nd  modern  art.  Six 
weeks  were  borrowed  for  my  tour  of  Naples,  the  most 
populous  of  cities,  relative  to  its  size ;  whose  luxurious 
inhabitants  seem  to  dwell  on  the  confines  of  paradise  and 
hell- fire.  I  was  presented  to  the  boy-king  by  our  new 
envoy.  Sir  William  Hamilton ;  who,  wisely  diverting  his 
correspondence  from  the  Secretary  of  State  to  the  Royal 
Society  and  British  Museum,  has  elucidated  a  country  of 

complaining  of  his  poverty.   He  knows  but  little  of  the  true  dignity  of  a 
man  of  letters.    If  his  knowledge  is  extensive,  it  is  inclined  towards  phy- 
sics.   He  asked  me  if  Lord  Spenser  could  not  make  bishops,  and  told  me 
a  story  about  Lord  Lyttleton  (whose  son  he  cannot  bear)  while  we  were  • 
talking  about  country  parliaments. 


163 


MR.  GIBBON'S  TOUR  IN  ITALY. 


such  inestimable  vajue  to  the  naturalist  and  antiquarian. 
On  my  return,  I  fondly  embraced,  for  the  last  time,  the 
miracles  of  Rome  ;  but  I  departed  without  kissing  the 
feet  of  Rezzonico  (Clement  XIII.),  who  neither  possessed 
the  wit  of  his  predecessor  Lambertini,  nor  the  virtues  of 
his  successor  Ganganelli,  3.  In  my  pilgrimage  from 
Rome  to  Loretto,  I  again  crossed  the  Appenine ;  from 
the  coast  of  the  Adriatic  I  traversed  a  fruitful  and  popu- 
lous country,  which  could  alone  disprove  the  paradox  of 
Montesquieu,  that  modern  Italy  is  a  desert.  Without 
adopting  the  exclusive  prejudice  of  the  natives,  I  sin- 
cerely admire  the  paintings  of  the  Bologna  school.  I 
hastened  to  escape  from  the  sad  solitude  of  Ferrera, 
which  in  the  age  ol  Caesar  was  still  more  desolate.  The 
spectacle  of  Venice  aflbrded  some  hours  of  astonishment ; 
the  university  of  Padua  is  a  dying  taper :  but  Verona  still 
boasts  her  amphitheatre,  and  his  native  Vicenza  is 
adorned  by  the  classic  architecture  of  Balladia ;  the  road 
of  Lombardy  and  Piedmont  (did  Montesquieu  find  them 
without  inhabitants  ?)  led  me  back  to  Milan,  Turin,  and 
the  passage  of  Mount  Cenis,  where  I  again  crossed  the 
Alps  in  my  way  to  Lyons. 

The  use  of  foreign  travel  has  been  often  debated  as  a 
general  question;  but  the  conclusion  must  be  finally 
applied  to  the  character  and  circumstances  of  each  indi- 
vidual. With  the  education  of  boys,  where  or  how  they 
may  pass  over  some  juvenile  years  with  the  least  mis- 
chief to  themselves  or  others,  I  have  no  concern.  But 
after  supposing  the  previous  and  indispensable  requisites 
of  age,  judgment,  a  competent  knowledge  of  men  and 
books,  and  a  freedom  from  domestic  prejudices,  I  will 


MR.  GIBBON'S  TOUR  IN  ITALY. 


169 


briefly  describe  the  qualification  which  I  deem  most 
essential  to  a  traveller.  He  should  be  endowed  with  an 
active,  indefatigable  vigour  of  mind  and  body,  which  can 
seize  every  mode  of  conveyance,  and  support,  with  a 
careless  smile,  every  hardship  of  the  road,  the  weather, 
or  the  inn.  The  benefits  of  foreign  travel  will  corres- 
pond with  the  degrees  of  these  qualifications  :  but,  in  this 
sketch,  those  to  whom  I  am  known  will  not  accuse  me 
of  framing  my  own  panegyric.  It  was  at  Rome,  on  the 
15th  of  October,  17G4,  as  I  sat  musing  amidst  the  ruins 
of  the  Capitol,  while  the  bare-footed  friars  were  singing 
vespers  in  the  temple  of  Jupiter,*  that  the  idea  of  writing 
the  decline  and  fall  of  the  city  first  started  to  my  mind. 
But  my  original  plan  was  circumscribed  to  the  decay  of 
the  city  rather  than  of  the  empire  :  and,  though  my 
reading  and  reflections  began  to  point  towards  that 
object,  some  years  elapsed,  and  several  avocations  inter- 
vened, before  I  was  seriously  engaged  in  the  execution'of 
that  laborious  work. 

I  had  not  totally  renounced  the  southern  provinces  of 
France,  but  the  letters  which  I  found  at  Lyons  were 
expressive  of  some  impatience.  Rome  and  Italy  had 
satiated  my  curious  appetite,  and  I  was  now  ready  to 
return  to  the  peaceful  retreat  of  my  family  and  books. 
After  a  happy  fortnight  I  reluctantly  left  Paris,  embarked 
at  Calais,  again  landed  at  Dover,  after  an  interval  of  two 
years  and  five  months,  and  hastily  drove  through  the 
summer  dust  and  solitude  of  London.  On  the  25th  of 
June,  1765,  I  arrived  at  my  father's  house :  and  the  five 

*  Now  the  church  of  the  Zoccolants,  or  FrancUcau  Friars. 


iro 


MR.  GIBBON'S  TOUR  IN  ITALY. 


years  and  a  half  between  my  travels  and  my  father's 
death  (1770)  are  the  portion  of  my  life  which  I  passed 
with  the  least  enjoyment,  and  which  I  remember  with 
the  least  satisfaction.  Every  spring  I  attended  the 
monthly  meeting  and  exercise  of  the  militia  at  South- 
ampton ;  and  by  the  resignation  of  my  father,  and  the 
death  of  Sir  Thomas  Worsley,  I  was  successively  pro- 
moted to  the  rank  of  major  and  lieutenant-colonel  com- 
mandant :  but  I  was  each  year  more  disgusted  with  the 
inn,  the  wine,  the  company,  and  the  tiresome  repetition 
of  annual  attendance  and  daily  exercise.  At  home,  the 
economy  of  the  family  and  farm  still  maintained  the  same 
creditable  appearance.  My  connexion  with  Mrs.  Gibbon 
"was  mellowed  into  a  warm  and  solid  attachment:  my 
growing  years  abolished  the  distance  that  might  yet 
remain  between  a  parent  and  a  son,  and  my  behaviour 
satisfied  my  father,  who  was  proud  of  the  success,  how- 
ever imperfect  in  his  own  life-time,  of  my  literary  talents. 
Our  solitude  was  soon  and  often  enlivened  by  the  visit  of 
the  friend  of  my  youth,  Dr.  Deyverdun,  whose  absence 
from  Lausanne  I  had  sincerely  lamented.  About  three 
years  after  my  first  departure,  he  had  emigrated  from 
his  native  lake  to  the  banks  of  the  Oder  in  Germany. 
The  res  angusta  domi,  the  waste  of  a  decent  patrimony, 
by  an  improvident  father,  obliged  him,  like  many  of  his 
countrymen,  to  confide  in  his  own  industry ;  and  he  was 
entrusted  with  the  education  of  a  young  prince,  the 
grandson  of  the  Margrave  of  Schavedt,  of  the  roya. 
family  of  Prussia.  Our  friendship  was  never  cooled,  our 
correspondence  was  sometimes  interrupted ;  but  I  rather 
wished  than  hoped  to  obtain  Mr  Deyverdun  for  the  com 


MB.  GIBBON'S  TOUR  IN  1TA1.Y. 


171 


panion  of  iny  Italian  tour.  An  unhappy,  though  honour- 
able passion,  drove  him  from  his  German  court ;  and  the 
attractions  of  hope  and  curiosity  were  fortified  by  the 
expectation  of  my  speedy  return  to  England.  During 
four  successive  summers  he  passed  several  weeks  or 
months  at  Beriton,  and  our  free  conversation,  on  every 
topic  that  could  interest  the  heart  or  understanding, 
would  have  reconciled  me  to  a  desert  or  a  prison.  In 
the  winter  months  of  London  my  sphere  of  knowledge 
and  action  were  somewhat  enlarged,  by  the  many  new 
acquaintances  which  I  had  contracted  in  the  militia  and 
abroad  ;  and  I  must  regret,  as  more  than  an  acquaint- 
ance, Mr.  Godfrey  Clarke  of  Derbyshire,  an  amiable  and 
worthy  young  man,  who  was  snatched  away  by  an 
untimely  death.  A  weekly  convivial  meeting  was  es- 
tablished by  myself  and  travellers,  under  the  name  of  the 
Roman  Club.* 

The  renewal,  or  perhaps  the  improvement  of  my 
English  life  embittered  by  the  alteration  of  my  own  feel- 
ings. At  the  age  of  twenty-one  I  was,  in  my  proper 
station  of  a  youth,  delivered  from  the  yoke  of  education, 
and  delighted  with  the  comparative  state  of  liberty  and 
affluence.  My  filial  obedience  was  natural  and  easy; 
and  in  the  gay  prospect  of  futurity,  my  ambition  did  not 
extend  beyond  the  enjoyment  of  my  books,  my  leisure, 
and  my  patrimonial  estate,  undisturbed  by  the  cares  of  a 

*  The  members  were  Lord  Mountstuart  (uow  Earl  of  Bute),  Colonel  Ed- 
monstone,  Weddal,  Palgrave,  Lord  Berkley,  Godfrey  Clark,  Holroyd 
(Lord  Sheffield),  Major  Ridley,  Sir  William  Guise,  Sir  John  Aubrey,  Lord 
Abingdon,  Hon.  Peregrine  Bertie,  Cleaver,  Hon.  John  Damer,  Hon.  George 
Damer  (Lord  Milton),  Sir  Thomas  Gascnvno  a:,  r.  '  " 


172 


MIt.  GIBBON'S  TOUR  IN  ITALY. 


family  and  the  duties  of  a  profession.  But  in  the  mihtia 
I  was  armed  with  power ;  in  my  travels,  I  was  exempt 
from  control ;  and  as  I  approached,  as  I  gradually  passed 
my  thirtieth  year,  I  began  to  feel  the  desire  of  being 
master  in  my  own  house.  The  most  gentle  authority 
will  sometimes  frown  without  reason,  the  most  cheerful 
submission  will  sometimes  murmur  without  cause ;  and 
such  is  the  law  of  our  imperfect  nature,  that  we  must 
either  command  or  obey ;  that  our  professional  liberty  is 
supported  by  the  obsequiousness  of  our  own  dependants. 
While  so  many  of  my  acquaintance  were  married  or  in 
parliament,  or  advancing  with  a  rapid  step  in  the  various 
roads  of  hononr  and  fortune,  I  stood  alone,  immoveable 
and  insignificant ;  for  after  the  monthly  meeting  of  1770, 
I  had  even  withdrawn  myself  from  the  militia,  by  the 
resignation  of  an  empty  and  barren  commission.  My 
temper  is  not  susceptible  of  envy,  and  the  view  of  suc- 
cessful merit  has  always  excited  my  warmest  applause. 
'  The  miseries  of  a  vacant  life  were  never  known  to  a  man 
I  whose  hours  were  insufficient  for  the  inexhaustible 
pleasures  of  study.  But  I  lamented  that  at  the  proper 
age  I  had  not  embraced  the  lucrative  pursuits  of  the  law 
or  of  trade,  the  chances  of  civil  office  or  India  adventure, 
or  even  the  fat  slumbers  of  the  church  ;  and  my  repentance 
became  more  lively  as  the  loss  of  time  was  more  irre- 
trievable. Experience  showed  me  the  use  of  grafting  my 
private  consequence  on  the  importance  of  a  great  profes- 
sional body  ;  the  benefits  of  thosie  firm  connexions  which 
are  cemented  by  hope  and  interest,  by  gratitude  and 
emulation,  by  the  mutual  exchange  of  services  and 
favours.    From  the  emoluments  of  a  profession  I  might 


MR  GIBBON'S  TOUR  IN  ITALY. 


173" 


have  derived  an  ample  fortune,  or  a  competent  income, 
instead  of  being  stinted  to  the  same  narrow  allowance,  to 
be  increased  only  by  an  event  which  I  sincerely  depre- 
cated. The  progress  and  the  knowledge  of  our  domestic 
disorders  aggravated  my  anxiety,  and  1  began  to  appre- 
hend that  I  might  be  left  in  my  old  age  without  the  fruits 
either  of  industry  or  inheritance. 

In  the  first  summer  after  my  return,  whilst  I  enjoyed 
at  Beriton  the  society  of  my  friend  Deyverdun,  our  daily 
conversations  expatiated  over  the  field  of  ancient  and 
modern  literature  ;  and  we  freely  discussed  my  studies, 
my  first  essay,  and  my  futui'e  projects.  The  Decline  and 
Fall  of  Rome  I  still  contemplated  at  an  awful  distance : 
but  the  two  historical  designs  which  had  balanced  my 
choice  were  submitted  to  his  taste ;  and  in  the  parallel 
between  the  Revolutions  of  Florence  and  Switzerland, 
our  common  partiality  for  a  country  which  was  his  by 
birth,  and  mine  by  adoption,  inclined  the  scale  in 
favour  of  the  latter.  According  to  the  plan,  which  was 
soon  conceived  and  digested,  I  embraced  a  period  of  two 
hundred  years,  from  the  association  of  three  peasants  of 
the  Alps  to  the  plenitude  and  prosperity  of  the  Helvetic 
body  in  the  sixteenth  century.  I  should  have  described 
the  deliverance  and  victory  of  the  Swiss,  who  have  never 
shed  the  blood  of  their  tyrants  but  in  the  field  of  battled' 
the  laws  and  manners  of  the  confederate  states ;  the 
splendid  trophies  of  the  Austrian,  Burgundian,  and  Italian 
wars ;  and  the  wisdom  of  a  nation,  who,  after  some 
sallies  of  martial  adventure,  has  been  content  to  guard 
the  blessings  of  peace  with  the  sword  of  freedom. 

 Manus  hacc  inimica  tyrannis 

Euse  petit  placidam  sub  libertate  quietem. 


174 


MR.  GIBBON'S  TOUR  IN  ITALY. 


My  judgment,  as  well  as  my  enthusiasm,  was  satisfied 
with  the  glorious  theme  ;  and  the  assistance  of  Deyverdun 
seemed  to  remove  an  insuperable  obstacle.  The  French 
or  Latin  memorials,  of  which  I  was  not  ignorant,  are 
inconsiderable  in  number  and  weight :  but  in  the  perfect 
acquaintance  of  my  friend  with  the  German  language,  I 
found  the  key  of  a  more  valuable  collection.  The  most 
necessary  books  were  procured ;  he  translated,  for  my 
use,  the  folio  volume  of  Schilling,  a  copious  and  contem- 
porary relation  of  the  war  of  Burgundy ;  we  read  and 
marked  the  most  interesting  parts  of  the  great  chronicle 
of  Tschudi :  and  by  his  labour,  or  that  of  an  inferior 
assistant,  large  extracts  were  made  from  the  History 
of  LaufFer,  and  the  Dictionary  of  Lew  ;  yet  such  was  the 
distance  and  delay,  that  two  years  elapsed  in  these  pre- 
paratory steps ;  and  it  was  late  in  the  third  summer 
(1767)  before  I  entered,  with  these  slender  materials,  on 
the  more  agreeable  task  of  composition.  A  specimen  of 
my  history,  the  first  book,  was  read  the  following  winter 
in  a  literary  society  of  foreigners  in  London ;  and  as  the 
author  was  unknown,  I  listened,  without  observation,  to 
the  free  strictures  and  unfavourable  sentence  of  my 
judges.*  The  momentary  sensation  was  painful ;  but  their 

*  Mr.  Hume  seems  to  have  had  a  different  opinion  of  this  work. 
From  Mr.  Hume  to  Mr.  Gibbon. 

"Sir, — It  is  but  a  few  days  ago  since  Mr.  Deyverdun  put  your  manuscript 
into  my  hands,  and  I  have  perused  it  with  great  pleasure  and  satisfaction. 
I  have  only  one  objection,  derived  from  the  language  in  which  it  is  written. 
Why  do  you  compose  in  French,  and  carry  faggots  into  the  wood,  as 
Horace  says  with  regard  to  Romans  who  wrote  in  Greek'!  I  grant  that 
you  have  a  like  motive  to  those  Romans,  and  adopt  a  language  much  more 
generally  diffused  than  your  native  tongue ;  but  have  you  not  remarked 
the  fate  of  those  two  ancient  languages  in  following  ages  1    The  Latin, 


MR.  GIBBON'S  TOUR  IN  ITALY. 


173 


condemnation  was  ratified  by  my  cooler  thoughts.  I 
delivered  my  imperfect  sheets  to  the  flames,*  and  forever 
renounced  a  design  in  which  some  expense,  much  labour, 
and  more  time,  had  been  so  vainly  consumed.  I  cannot 
regret  the  loss  of  a  slight  and  superficial  essay ;  for  such 
the  work  must  have  been  in  the  hands  of  a  stranger, 
uninformed  by  the  scholars  and  statesmen,  and  remote 
from  the  libraries  and  archievcs  of  the  Swiss  republics. 
My  ancient  habits,  and  the  presence  of  Deyverdun, 
encouraged  me  to  write  in  French  for  the  Continent  of 
Europe ;  but  I  was  conscious  myself  that  my  style,  above 

thoQgh  then  less  celebrated,  and  confined  to  more  narrow  limits,  hns  in 
some  measure  outlived  the  Greek,  and  is  now  more  generally  understood 
by  men  of  letters.  Let  the  French,  therefore,  triumph  in  the  present  dif- 
fusion of  their  tongue.  Our  solid  and  increasing  establishments  in  America, 
where  we  need  less  dread  the  inundation  of  barbarians,  promise  a  superior 
stability  and  duration  to  the  English  language. 

"  Your  use  of  the  French  tongue  has  also  led  you  into  a  style  more  poeti- 
cal and  figurative,  and  more  highly  coloured,  than  our  language  seems  to 
admit  of  in  historical  productions  ;  for  such  is  the  practice  of  French 
writers,  particularly  the  more  recent  ones,  who  illuminate  their  pictures 
more  than  costom  will  permit  us.  On  the  whole,  your  history,  in  my 
opinion,  is  written  with  spirit  and  judgment ;  and  I  exhort  you  earnestly 
tocontmue  it.  The  objections  that  occurred  tome  on  reading  it,  were  so 
frivolous,  that  I  shall  not  trouble  you  with  them,  and  should,  I  believe,  have 
a  difficulty  to  recollect  them.  I  am,  with  great  esteem,  sir,  your  most 
obedient  and  most  humble  servant, 

(Signed)  David  Hcime." 

"  London,  24th  of  Oct.  1767. 

*  He  neglected  to  bum  them.  He  left  at  Sheffield-place  the  introduc- 
tion, or  first  book,  in  forty-three  pages  folio,  written  in  a  very  small  hand, 
besides  a  considerable  number  of  notes.  If  Mr.  Gibbon  had  not  declared 
his  judgment,  perhaps  Mr.  Hume's  opinion,  expressed  in  theletterin  the  last 
note,  might  have  justified  the  publication  of  it. — S. 


176 


MR.  GIBBON'S  TOUR  IN  ITALY. 


prose  and  below  poetry,  degenerated  into  a  verbose  and 
turgid  declamation.  Perhaps  I  may  impute  the  failure  to 
an  injudicious  choice  of  a  foreign  language.  Perhaps  I 
may  suspect  that  the  language  itself  is  ill  adapted  to  sus- 
tain the  vigour  and  dignity  of  an  important  narrative. 
But  if  France,  so  rich  in  literary  merit,  had  produced  a 
great  original  historian,  his  genius  would  have  formed 
and  fixed  the  idiom  to  the  proper  tone,  the  peculiar  mode 
of  historical  eloquence. 


CHAP.  XIX. 

MR.  GIBBON  COMMENCES  A  PERIODICAL. 

It  was  in  search  of  some  liberal  and  lucrative  employ- 
ment that  my  friend  Deyverdun  had  visited  England. 
His  remittances  from  home  -were  scanty  and  precarious. 
My  purse  was  always  open,  but  it  was  often  empty ;  and 
I  bitterly -felt  the  want  of  riches  and  power,  which  might 
have  enabled  me  to  correct  the  errors  of  his  fortune. 
His  wishes  and  qualifications  solicited  the  station  of  the 
travelling  governor  of  some  wealthy  pupil ;  but  every 
vacancy  provoked  so  many  eager  candidates,  that  for  a 
long  time  I  struggled  without  success ;  nor  was  it  till 
after  much  application  that  I  could  even  place  him  as  a 
clerk  in  the  office  of  the  secretary  of  state.  In  a  resi- 
dence of  several  years  he  never  acquired  the  just  pronun- 
ciation and  familiar  use  of  the  English  tongue,  but  he 
read  our  most  difficult  authors  with  ease  and  taste :  his 
critical  knowledge  of  our  language  and  poetry  was  such 
as  few  foreigners  have  possessed ;  and  few  of  our  coun- 
trymen could  enjoy  the  theatre  of  Shakspeare  and  Gar- 
rick  with  more  exquisite  feeling  and  discernment. '  The 
consciousness  of  his  own  strength,  and  the  assurance  of 
my  aid,  emboldened  him  to  imitate  the  example  of  Dr. 
Maty,  whose  Journal  Britannique  was  esteemed  and 


178  MR.  GIBBON  COMMENCES  A  PERIODICAL. 


regretted ;  and  to  improve  his  model,  by  uniting  with  the 
transactions  of  literature  a  philosophic  view  of  the  arts 
and  manners  of  the  British  nation.    Our  journal  for  the 
year  1767,  under  the  title  of  Memoires  Litteraires  de  la 
Grande  Bretagne,  was  soon  finished  and  sent  to  the 
press.    For  the  first  article.  Lord  Lyttleton's  History  of 
Henry  II.,  I  must  own  myself  responsible  ;  but  the  public 
has  ratified  m.y  judgment  of  that  voluminous  work,  in 
which  sense  and  learning  are  not  illuminated  by  a  ray  of 
genius.    The  next  specimen  was  the  choice  of  my  friend, 
the  Bath  Guide,  a  light  and  whimsical  performance,  of 
local,  and  even  verbal,  pleasantry.    I  started  at  the 
attempt :  he  smiled  at  my  fears :  his  courage  was  justi- 
fied by  success ;  and  a  master  of  both  languages  will 
applaud  the  curious  felicity  with  which  he  has  transfused 
into  French  prose  the  spirit,  and  even  the  humour,  of  the 
English  verse.    It  is  not  my  wish  to  deny  how  deeply  I 
was  interested  in  these  Memoirs,  of  which  I  need  not 
surely  be  ashamed ;  but  at  the  distance  of  more  than 
twenty  years,  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  ascertain 
the  respective  shares  of  the  two  associates,    A  long  and 
intimate  communication  of  ideas  had  cast  our  sentiments 
and  style  in  the  same  mould.    In  our  social  labours  we 
composed  and  corrected  by  turns ;  and  the  praise  which 
I  might  honestly  bestow  would  fall  perhaps  upon  some 
article  or  passage  most  properly  my  own.    A  second 
volume  (for  the  year   176S)  was  published  of  these 
Memoirs.    I  will  presume  to  say,  that  their  merit  was 
superior  to  their  reputation ;  but  it  is  not  1-ess  true,  that 
they  were  productive  of  more  reputation  than  emolument. 
They  introduced  my  friend  to  the  protection,  and  myself 


MR.  GIBBON  COMMENCES  A  PERIODICAL.  179 

to  the  acquaintance  of  the  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  whose 
age  and  infirmities  secluded  him  from  the  world  ;  of  Mr. 
David  Hume,  who  was  under  secretary  to  the  office  in 
which  Deyverdun  was  more  humbly  employed.  The 
former  accepted  a  dedication  (April  12th,  17G9,)  and  re- 
served the  author  for  the  future  education  of  his  suc- 
cessor ;  the  latter  enriched  the  journal  with  a  reply  to 
Mr.'Walpole's  Historical  Doubts,  which  he  afterwards 
shaped  into  the  form  of  a  note.  The  materials  of  the 
third  volume  were  almost  completed,  when  I  recom- 
mended Deyverdun  as  governor  to  Sir  Richard  Worsley, 
a  youth,  the  son  of  my  old  lieutenant-colonel,  who  was 
lately  deceased.  They  set  forwards  ort  their  travels ; 
nor  did  they  return  to  England  tili  some  time  after  my 
father's  death. 

My  next  publication  was  an  accidental  sally  of  love  and 
resentment ;  of  my  reverence  for  modest  genius,  and  my 
aversion  for  insolent  pedantry.  The  sixth  book  of 
iEneid  is  the  most  pleasing  and  perfect  composition  of 
Latin  poetry.  The  descent  of  ^neas  and  the  Sybil  to 
the  infernal  regions,  to  the  world  of  spirits,  expands  an 
awful  and  boundless  prospect,  from  the  nocturnal  gloom 
of  the  Cumaean  grot, 

Ibant  obscuri  soli  sab  nocte  per  umbram, 

to  the  meridian  brightness  of  the  Elygian  fields ; 

Largior  hie  campos  aether  et  lumine  vestit 
Purpureo  


from  the  dreams  of  simple  nature,  to  the  dreams,  alas  ! 
of  Egyptian  theology,  and  the  philosophy  of  the  Greeks. 


180  MR.  GIBBON  COMMENCES  A  PERIODICAL. 


But  the  final  dismission  of  the  hero  through  the  ivory 
gate,  whence 

Falsa  ad  coelam  mittunt  insomnia  manes, 

seems  to  dissolve  the  whole  enchantment,  and  leaves 
the  reader  in  a  state  of  cold  and  anxious  scepticism. 
This  most  lame  and  impotent  conclusion  has  been 
variously  imputed  to  the  taste  or  irreligion  of  Virgil ; 
but,  according  to  the  more  elaborate  interpretation  ot 
Bishop  Warburton,  the  descent  to  hell  is  not  a  false  but 
a  mimic  scene  ;  which  rep-resents  the  initiation  of  iEneas 
in  the  character  of  a  lawgiver,  to  the  Eleusinian  mys- 
teries. This  hypothesis,  a  singular  chapter  in  the  Divine 
Legation  of  Moses,  had  been  admitted  by  many  as  true ; 
it  was  praised  by  all  as  ingenius ;  nor  had  it  been  ex- 
posed, in  a  space  of  thirty  years,  to  a  fair  and  critical 
discussion.  The  learning  and  the  abilities  of  the  author 
had  raised  him  to  a  just  eminence  ;  but  he  reigned  the 
dictator  and  tyrant  of  the  world  of  literature.  The  real 
merit  of  Warburton  was  degraded  by  the  pride  and  pre- 
sumption with  which  he  pronounced  his  infallible  decrees ; 
in  his  polemic  writings  he  lashed  his  antagonists  without 
mercy  or  moderation  ;  and  his  servile  flatterers,  (see  the 
base  and  malignant  Essay  on  the  Delicacy  of  Friendship,) 
exalting  the  master  critic  far  above  Aristotle  and  Lon- 
ginus,  assaulted  every  modest  dissenter  M'ho  refused  to 
consult  the  oracle,  and  adore  the  idol.  In  a  land  of 
liberty,  such  despotism  must  pro'voke  a  general  opposi- 
tion, and  the  zeal  of  opposition  is  seldom  candid  or  im- 
partial. A  late  professor  of  Oxford  (Dr.  Lowth),  in  a 
pointed  and  polished  epistle,  (August  3Ist,  1765,)  de- 


MR.  GIBBON  COMMENCES  A  PERIODICAL. 


181 


fended  himself,  and  nttacked  the  bishop ;  and,  whatsoever 
might  be  the  merits  of  an  insignificant  controversy,  his 
victory  was  cleai'Iy  established  by  the  silent  confusion  of 
Warburton  and  his  slaves.  I,  too,  without  any  private 
offence,  was  ambitious  of  breaking  a  lance  against  the 
giant's  shield  ;  and  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1770,  my 
Critical  Observations  on  the  Sixth  Book  of  the  ^neid 
were  sent,  without  my  name,  to  the  press.  In  this  short 
essay,  my  first  Enghsh  publication,  I  aimed  my  strokes 
against  the  person  and  the  hypothesis  of  Bishop  War- 
burton.  I  proved,  at  least  to  my  own  satisfaction,  that 
the  ancient  lawgivers  did  not  invent  the  mysteries,  and 
that  ^neas  was  never  invested  with  the  office  of  law- 
giver ;  that  there  is  not  any  argument,  any  circumstance, 
which  can  melt  a  fable  into  allegory,  or  remove  the 
scene  from  the  Lake  Avernus  to  the  Temple  of  Ceres : 
that  such  a  wild  supposition  is  equally  injurious  to  the 
poet  and  the  man ;  that  if  Virgil  was  not  initiated  he 
could  not,  if  he  were  he  would  not,  reveal  the  secrets  of 
the  initiation  :  that  the  anathema  of  Horace  ("  vetabo  qui 
Cereris  sacrum  vulgarit,"  &c.)  at  once  attests  his  own 
ignorance  and  the  innocence  of  his  friend.  As  the  Bishop 
-  of  Gloucester  and  his  party  maintained  a  discreet 
silence,  my  critical  disquisition  was  soon  lost  among  the 
pamphlets  of  the  day  ;  but  the  public  coldness  was  over- 
balanced to  my  feelings  by  the  weighty  approbation  of 
the  last  and  best  editor  of  Virgil,  Professor  Heyne,  of 
Gottingen,  who  acquiesces  in  my  confutation,  and  styles 
the  unknown  author,  "doctus  .  .  .  .  et  elegantisimus 
Brittannus."  But  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  tran- 
scribing the  favourable  judgment  of  Mr.  Hayley,  himself 


182  MR.  GIBBON  COMMENCES  A  PERIODICAL. 


a  poet  and  a  scholar  :  "  An  intricate  hypothesis,  twisted 
into  a  long  and  laboured  chain  of  quotation  and  argument, 
the  Dissertation  on  the  Sixth  Book  of  Virgil  remained 

some  time  unrefuted   At  length  a  superior,  but 

anonymous,  critic  arose,  who,  in  one  of  the  most  judicious 
and  spirited  essays  that  our  nation  has  produced,  on  a 
point  of  classical  literature,  completely  overturned  this 
ill-founded  edifice,  and  exposed  the  arrogance  and  futility 
of  its  assuming  architect."  He  even  condescends  to 
justify  an  acrimony  of  style,  which  had  been  gently 
blamed  by  the  more  unbiassed  German ;  "  Paullo  acrius 
quam  velis  ....  perstrinxit."*  But  I  can  never  forgive 
myself  the  contemptuous  treatment  of  a  man  who 
with  all  his  faults,  was  entitled  to  my  esteem  ;t  and  I 
can  less  forgive,  in  a  personal  attack,  the  cowardly  con- 
cealment of  my  name  and  character. 

In  the  fifteen  years  between  my  Essay  on  the  Study 
of  Literature  and  the  first  volume  of  the  Decline  and 
Fall,  (1761 — 1776,)  this  criticism  on  Warburton,  and 
some  articles  in  the  journal,  were  my  sole  pubUcations. 

•  The  editor  of  the  Warburtonian  Tracts,  D'r.  Parr  (p.  192),  considers  the 
allegorical  interpretation  "as  completely  refuted  in  a  most  clear,  elegant, 
and  decisive  work  of  criticism  ;  which  could  not,  indeed,  derive  authority 
from  the  greatest  name  ;  but  to  which  the  greatest  name  might  with  pro- 
priety have  been  afBxed." 

t  The  Divine  Legation  of  Moses  is  a  monument  already  crumbliug  in 
the  dust,  of  the  vigour  and  weakness  of  the  human  mind.  If  Warburton's 
new  argument  proved  anything,  it  would  be  a  demonstration  against  the 
legislator  who  left  his  people  without  the  knowledge  of  a  future  state.  But 
some  episodes  of  the  work,  on  the  Greek  philosoi)liy,  the  hieroglyphics  of 
Egypt,  &c  are  entitled  to  the  praise  of  learning,  imagination  and  discern- 
ment. 


MR.  GIBBON  COMMENCES   A  PERIODICAL.  183 


It  is  more  especially  encumbent  on  me  to  mark  the  em- 
ployment, or  to  confess  the  waste  of  time,  from  my 
travels  to  my  father's  death,  an  interval  in  which  I  was 
not  diverted  by  any  professional  duties  from  the  labours 
and  pleasures  of  a  studious  life.  1.  As  soon  as  I  was  re- 
leased from  the  fruitless  task  of  the  Swiss  revolutions, 
(1768,)  I  began  to  advance  gradually  from  the  wish  to 
the  hope,  from  the  hope  to  the  design,  from  the  de- 
sign to  the  execution,  of  my  historical  work,  of  whose 
limits  and  extent  I  had  yet  a  very  inadequate  notion. 
The  classics,  as  low  as  Tacitus,  the  younger  Pliny,  and 
Juvenal,  were  my  old  and  familiar  companions.  I  in- 
sensibly plunged  into  the  ocean  of  the  Augustan  history  ; 
and  in  the  descending  series  I  investigated,  with  my  pen 
almost  always  in  my  hand,  the  original  records  both 
Greek  and  Latin,  from  Dion  Cassius  to  Ammianus  Mar- 
cellinus,  from  the  reign  of  Trajan  to  the  last  age  of  the 
Western  Caesars.  The^ibsidary  rays  of  medals  and 
inscriptions,  of  geography  and  chronology,  were  thrown 
on  their  proper  objects ;  and  I  applied  the  collections  of 
Tillemont  whose  inimitable  accuracy  almost  assumes  the 
character  of  genius,  to  fix  and  arrange  within  my  reach 
the  loose  and  scattered  atoms  of  historical  information. 
Through  the  darkness  of  the  middle  ages  I  explored  my 
way  in  the  Annals  and  Antiquities  of  Italy  of  the  learned 
Muratori ;  and  diligently  compared  them  with  the 
parallel  or  transverse  lines  of  Sigonius  and  Maffei, 
Baronius  and  Pagi,  till  I  almost  grasped  the  ruins  of 
Rome  in  the  fourteenth  century,  without  suspecting  that 
this  final  chapter  must  be  attained  by  the  labour  of 
six  quartos  and  twenty  years.    Among  the  books  which 


184 


MR.  GIBBON  COMMENCES  A  PERIODICAL. 


I  purchased,  the  Theodosian  Code,  with  the  commen- 
tary of  James  Godefroy,  must  be  gratefully  remembered. 
I  used  (and  much  I  used  it)  as  a  work  of  history,  rather 
than  of  jurisprudence  :  but  in  every  light  it  may  be  con- 
sidered as  a  full  and  capacious  repository  of  the  political 
state  of  the  empire  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries.  As 
I  believed,  and  as  I  still  believe,  that  the  propagation  of 
the  Gospel  and  the  triumph  of  the  church  are  insepara- 
bly connected  with  the  decline  of  the  Roman  monarchy, 
I  weighed  the  causes  and  effects  of  the  revolution,  and 
contrasted  the  narratives  and  apologies  of  the  Christians 
themselves,  with  the  glances  of  candour  or  enmity  which 
the  Pagans  have  cast  on  the  rising  sects.    The  Jewish 
and  Heathen  testimonies,  as  they  are  collected  and  illus- 
trated by  Dr.  Lardner,  directed,  without  superseding,  my 
search  of  the  originals  ;  and  in  an  ample  dissertation  on 
the  miraculous  dai-kness  of  the  passion,  I  privately  drew 
my  conclusions  from  the  silei^  of  an  unbelieving  age. 
I  have  assembled  the  preparatory  studies,  directly  or  in-  - 
directly,  relative  to  my  history  ;  but  in  strict  equity,  they 
must  be  spread  beyond  this  period  of  my  life,  over  the 
two  summers  (1771  and  1772)  that  elapsed  between  my 
father's  death  and  my  settlement  in  London.    2.  In  a 
free   conversation  with   books  and  men,  it  would  be 
endless  to  enumerate  the  names  and  characters  of  all 
who  are  introduced  to  our  acquaintance :  but  in  this 
general  acquaintance  we  may  select  the  degrees  of 
friendship  and  esteem.    According  to  the  wise  maxim, 
"  Multum  legerc  potius  quam  multa,"  I  reviewed,  again 
and   again,  the   immortal  works  of  the   French  and 
English,  the   Latin  and   Italian   classics.    My  Greek 


MR.  GIBBON  COMMENCES  A  PERIODICAL.  185 


Studies  (though  less  assiduous  than  I  designed)  maintained 
and  extended  my  knowledge  of  that  incomparable  idiom. 
Homer  and  Xenophon  were  still  my  favourite  authors  ; 
and  I  had  almost  prepared  for  the  press  an  Essay  on  the 
Cyropoedia,  which,  in  my  own  judgment,  is  not  unhap- 
pily laboured.  After  a  certain  age,  the  new  publications 
of  merit  are  the  sole  food  of  the  many ;  and  the  most 
austere  student  will  be  often  tempted  to  break  the  line, 
for  the  sake  of  indulging  his  own  curiosity,  and  of  pro- 
viding the  topics  of  fashionable  currency.  A  more  re- 
spectable motive  may  be  assigned  for  the  third  perusal  of 
Blackstone's  Commentaries,  and  a  copious  and  critical 
abstract  of  that  English  work  was  my  first  serious  pro- 
duction in  my  native  language.  3.  My  literary  leisure 
was  much  less  complete  and  independent  than  it  might 
appear  to  the  eye  of  a  stranger.  In  the  hurry  of  London 
I  was  destitute  of  books ;  in  the  solitude  of  Hampshire  I 
was  not  master  of  my  time.  My  quiet  was  gradually 
disturbed  by  our  domestic  anxioty,  and  I  should  be 
ashamed  of  my  unfeeling  philosophy,  had  I  found  much 
time  or  taste  for  study  in  the  last  fatal  summer  (1770)  of 
my  father's  decay  and  dissolution. 

The  disembodying  of  the  militia  at  the  close  of  the 
war  (in  1763)  had  restored  the  Major  (a  new  Cincin- 
natus)  to  a  life  of  agriculture.  His  labours  were  useful, 
his  pleasures  innocent,  his  wishes  moderate ;  and  my 
father  seemed  to  enjoy  the  state  of  happiness  which  is 
celebrated  by  poets  and  philosophers,  as  the  most  agree- 
able to  nature,  and  the  least  accessible  to  fortune. 


186  MR.  GIBBON  COMMENCES  A  PERIODICAL. 


Beatus  ille,  qui  procul  negotiis 

(Ut  prisca  gens  mortalium) 

Paterna  rara  bubus  exercet  suis, 

Solutus  omni  foenore.*  Hor.  Epod.  ii. 

But  the  last  indispensable  condition,  the  freedom  from 
debt,  was  wanting  to  my  father's  felicity ;  and  the  vani- 
ties of  his  youth  were  severely  punished  by  the  solici- 
tude and  sorrow  of  his  declining  age.  The  first  mort- 
gage, on  my  return  from  Lausanne  (1758),  had  afforded 
him  a  partial  and  transient  relief.  The  annual  demand 
of  interest  and  allowance  was  a  heavy  deduction  from 
his  income ;  the  militia  was  a  source  of  expense,  the 
farm  in  his  hands  was  not  a  profitable  adventure,  he  was 
loaded  with  the  costs  and  damages  of  an  obsolete  law- 
suit ;  and  each  year  multiplied  the  number  and  exhausted 
the  patience  of  his  creditors.  Under  these  painful  cir- 
cumstances I  consented  to  an  additional  mortgage,  to 
the  sale  of  Putney,  and  to  every  sacrifice  that  could 
alleviate  his  distress.  But  he  was  no  longer  capable  of 
a  rational  effort,  and  his  reluctant  delays  postponed 
not  the  evils  themselves,  but  the  remedies  of  those 
evils  ("  remedia  malorum  potius  quam  mala  difTerebat"). 
The  pangs  of  shame,  tenderness,  and  self-reproach,  in- 
cessantly preyed  on  his  vitals ;  his  constitution  was 
broken ;  he  lost  his  strength  and  his  sight ;  the  rapid 
progress  of  a  dropsy  admonished  him  of  his  end,  and  he 
sunk  into  the  grave  on  the  10th  of  November,  1770,  in 

*  Like  the  first  mortals  blest  is  ho, 
From  debts,  and  usury,  and  business  free, 

with  his  own  team  who  ploughs  the  soil, 
Which  grateful  once  confess'd  his  father's  toil.  Francis 


MR.  GIBBON  COMMENCES  A  PERIODICAL. 


187 


the  sixty-fourth  year  of  his  age.  A  family  tradition  in- 
sinuates that  Mr.  WilHarn  Law  had  drawn  his  pupil 
in  the  light  and  inconstant  character  of  Flatus,  who  is 
ever  confident  and  ever  disappointed  in  the  chase  of 
happiness.  But  these  constitutional  failings  were  hap- 
pily compensated  by  the  virtues  of  the  head  and  heart,  by 
the  warmest  sentiments  of  honour  and  humanity.  His  grace- 
ful person,  polite  address,  gentle  manners,  and  unaffected 
cheerfulness,  recommended  him  to  the  favour  of  every 
company ;  and  in  ihe  change  of  times  and  opinions,  his 
liberal  spirit  had  long  since  delivered  him  from  the  zeal  and 
prejudice  of  a  Tory  education.  I  submitted  to  the  order  of 
Nature  ;  and  my  grief  was  soothed  by  the  conscious  satis- 
faction that  I  had  discharged  all  the  duties  of  filial  piety. 


CHAR  XX. 

MR.  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDON. 

As  soon  as  I  had  paid  the  last  solemn  duties  to  my 
father,  and  obtained,  from  time  and  reason,  a  tolerable 
composure  of  mind,  I  began  to  form  the  plan  of  an  inde- 
pendent life,  most  adapted  to  my  circumstances  and 
inclination.  Yet  so  intricate  was  the  net,  my  efforts  were 
so  awkward  and  feeble,  that  nearly  two  years  (Novem- 
ber, 1770 — October,  1772)  were  suffered  to  elapse  before 
I  could  disentangle  myself  from  the  management  of  the 
farm,  and  transfer  my  residence  from  Beriton  to  a  house 
in  London.  During  this  interval  I  continued  to  divide 
my  year  between  town  and  the  country ;  but  my  new 
situation  was  brightened  by  hope ;  my  stay  in  London 
was  prolonged  into  the  summer ;  and  the  uniformity  of 
the  summer  was  occasionally  broken  by  visits  and  excur- 
sions at  a  distance  from  home.  The  gratification  of  my 
desires  (they  were  not  immoderate)  has  been  seldom 
disappointed  by  the  want  of  money  or  credit ;  my  pride 
was  never  insulted  by  the  visit  of  an  importunate  trades- 
man ;  and  my  transient  anxiety  for  the  past  or  future  has 
been  dispelled  by  the  studious  or  social  occupation  of  the 
present  hour.  My  conscience  does  not  accuse  me  of  an 
act  of  extravagance  or  injustice,  and  the  remnant  of  my 
estate  affords  an  ample  and  honourable  provision  for  my 


MR.  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDON.  18.9 

declining  age.  I  shall  not  expatiate  on  my  economical 
affairs,  which  cannot  be  instructive  or  amusing  to  the 
reader.  It  is  a  rule  of  prudence,  as  well  as  of  politeness, 
to  reserve  such  confidence  for  the  ear  of  a  private  friend, 
without  exposing  our  situation  to  the  envy  or  pity  of 
strangers ;  for  envy  is  productive  of  hatred,  and  pity 
borders  too  nearly  on  contempt.  Yet  I  may  believe,  and 
even  assert,  that  ia  circumstances  more  indigent  or  more 
wealthy,  I  should  never  have  accomplished  the  task,  or 
acquired  the  fame,  of  an  historian  ;  that  my  spirit  would 
have  been  broken  by  poverty  and  contempt,  and  that  my 
industry  might  have  been  relaxed  in  the  labour  and  lux- 
ury of  a  superfluous  fortune. 

I  had  now  attained  the  first  of  earthly  blessings,  inde- 
pendence :  I  was  the  absolute  master  of  my  hours  and 
actions :  nor  was  I  deceived  in  the  hope  that  the  estab- 
lishment of  my  library  in  town  would  allow  me  to  divide 
the  day  between  study  and  society.  Each  year  the 
circle  of  my  acquaintance,  the  nuniber  of  my  dead  and 
living  companions,  was  enlarged.  To  a  lover  of  books, 
the  shops  and  sales  of  London  present  irresistible  temp- 
tations ;  and  the  manufacture  of  my  history  required  a 
various  and  growing  stock  of  materials.  The  militia,  my 
travels,  the  House  of  Commons,  the  fame  of  an  author, 
contributed  to  multiply  my  connexions :  I  was  chosen  a 
member  of  the  fashionable  clubs ;  and,  before  I  left  Eng- 
land in  1783,  there  were  few  persons  of  any  eminence  in 
the  literary  or  political  world  to  whom  I  was  a  stranger.* 

*  From  the  mixed,  though  polite,  company  of  Boodle's,  White's,  and 
Srookes's,  I  must  honourably  distinguish  a  weekly  society  which  was 
instituted  in  the  year  1764,  and  which  still  contiaues  to  flourish,  under  the 

I 


190  AIR.  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDON. 

It  would  most  assuredly  be  in  my  power  to  amuse  the 
reader  with  a  gallery  of  portraits  and  a  collection  of 
anecdotes.  But  I  have  always  condemned  the  practice 
of  transforming  a  private  memorial  into  a  vehicle  of  sa- 
tire or  praise.  By  my  own  choice  I  passed  in  town  the 
greatest  part  of  the  year  ;  but  whenever  I  was  desirous 
of  breathing  the  air  of  the  country,  I  possessed  an  hospi- 
table retreat  at  Sheffield-place  in  Sussex,  in  the  family  of 
my  valued  friend  Mr.  Holroyd,  whose  character,  under 
the  name  of  Lord  Sheffield,  has  since  been  more  conspi- 
cuous to  the  public. 

No  sooner  was  I  settled  in  my  house  and  library,  than 
I  undertook  the  composition  of  the  first  volume  of  my 
history.  At  the  outset  all  was  dark  and  doubtful :  even 
the  title  of  the  work,  the  true  sera  of  the  decline  and  fall 
of  the  empire,  the  limits  of  the  introduction,  the  division 
of  the  chapters,  and  the  order  of  the  narrative  :  and  I 
was  often  tempted  to  cast  away  the  labour  of  seven 
years.  The  style  of  an  author  should  be  the  image  of 
his  mind,  but  the  choice  and  command  of  language  is  the 
fruit  of  exercise.  Many  experiments  were  made  before 
I  could  hit  the  middle  tone  between  a  dull  chronicle  and 
a  rhetorical  declamation :  three  times  did  I  compose  the 
first  chapter,  and  twice  the  second  and  third,  before  I 
was  tolerably  satisfied  with  their  effect.  In  the  remain- 
title  of  the  Literai*y  Club.  (Hawkins's  Life  of  Johnson,  p.  415.  Bos- 
well's  Tour  to  the  Hebrides,  p.  97.)  The  names  of  Dr.  Johnson,  Mr. 
Burke,  Mr.  Tophau  Beauclerc,  Mr.  Ganick,  Dr.  Goldsmith,  Sir  Joshna 
Reynolds,  Mr.  Colmau,  Sir  AVilliam  Jones,  Dr.  Percy,  Mr  Fo.\,  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan, Mr.  Adam  Smith,  Mr.  Steevcns,  Mr.  Dunning,  Sir  Joseph  Banks,  Dr. 
Wharton,  and  his  brother,  Mr.  Thomas  Wharton,  Dr.  Burney,  &c.,  form 
a  large  and  luminous  constellation  of  British  stars. 


MR.  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDON. 


191 


der  of  the  way  I  advanced  with  a  more  equal  and  easy 
pace ;  but  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  chapters  have  been 
reduced,  by  three  successive  revisals,  from  a  large 
volume  to  their  present  size ;  and  they  might  still  be  com- 
pressed, without  any  loss  of  facts  or  sentiments.  An 
opposite  fault  may  be  imputed  to  the  concise  and  super- 
ficial narrative  of  the  first  reigns  from  Commodus  to 
Alexander ;  a  fault  of  which  I  have  never  heard,  except 
from  Mr.  Hume  in  his  last  journey  to  London.  Such  an 
oracle  might  have  been  consulted  and  obeyed  with 
rational  devotion ;  but  I  was  soon  disgusted  with  the 
modest  practice  of  reading  the  manuscript  to  my  friends. 
Of  such  friends  some  will  praise  from  politeness,  and 
some  will  criticise  from  vanity.  The  author  himself  is 
the  best  judge  of  his  own  performance ;  no  one  has  so 
deeply  meditated  on  the  subject :  no  one  is  so  sincerely 
interested  in  the  event. 

By  the  friendship  of  Mr.  (now  Lord)  Eliot,  who  had 
married  my  first  cousin,  I  was  returned  at  the  general 
election  for  the  borough  of  Liskeard.  I  took  my  seat  at 
the  beginning  of  the  memorable  contest  between  Great 
Britain  and  America,  and  supported  with  many  a  sincere 
and  silent  vote,  the  rights,  though  not,  perhaps,  the 
interest,  of  the  mother  country.  After  a  fleeting  illusive 
hope,  prudence  condemned  me  to  acquiesce  in  the  hum- 
ble station  of  a  mute.  I  was  not  armed  by  nature  and 
education  with  the  intrepid  energy  of  mind  and  voice. 

Viiicentem  strepitus,  et  natum  rebus  agendis. 

Timidity  was  fortified  by  pride,  and  even  the  success  of 


192 


MR.  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDON. 


my  pen  discouraged  the  trial  of  my  voice.*  But  I 
assisted  at  the  debates  of  a  free  assembly ;  I  listened  to 
the  attack  and  defence  ofeloquence  and  reason ;  J  had  a 
near  prospect  of  the  characters,  views,  and  passions  of 
the  first  men  of  the  age.  The  cause  of  government  was 
ably  vindicated  by  Lord  North,  a  statesman  of  spotless 
integrity,  a  consummate  master  of  debate,  who  could 
wield,  with  equal  dexterity,  the  arms  of  reason  and  of 
ridicule.  He  was  seated  on  the  treasury  bench,  between 
his  attorney  and  solicitor  general,  the  two  pillars  of  the 
law  and  state,  "  magis  pares  quam  similes ;"  and  the 
minister  might  indulge  in  a  short  slumber,  whilst  he  was 
upholden  on  either  hand  by  the  majestic  sense  of  Thur- 
low,  and  the  skilful  eloquence  of  Wedderburne.  From 
the  adverse  side  of  the  house  an  ardent  and  powerful 
opposition  was  supported,  by  the  lively  declamation  of 
Barre,  the  legal  acuteness  of  Dunning,  the  profuse  and 
philosophic  fancy  of  Burke,  and  the  argumentative  vehe- 
mence of  Fox,  who  in  the  conduct  of  a  party  approved 
himself  equal  to  the  conduct  of  an  empire.  By  such 
men  every  operation  of  peace  and  war,  every  principle  of 

*  A  French  sketch  of  Mr,  Gibbon's  Life,  written  by  himself,  probably  for 
the  use  of  some  foreign  journalist  or  translator,  contains  no  fact  not  men- 
tioned in  his  English  Life.  He  there  describes  himself  with  his  usual  can- 
dour. For  the  last  eight  years  he  has  assisted  at  the  most  important  delibe- 
rations, but  he  never  found  in  himself  either  courage  or  talent  suflBcient  to 
speak  in  a  pubhc  assembly.  This  sketch  was  written  before  the  pubUca- 
tion  of  his  three  last  volumes,  as  in  closing  it  he  says  of  his  history — this 
enterprise  still  requires  from  him  several  years  of  continued  apphcation  ; 
but  whatever  may  be  its  success,  he  finds  in  this  very  application  a  plea- 
sure ever  varied  and  ever  new. 


MR.  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDON. 


193 


justice  or  policy,  every  question  of  authority  and  free- 
dom, was  attacked  and  defended  ;  and  the  subject  of  the 
momentous  contest  was  the  union  or  separation  of  Great 
Britain  and  America.  The  eight  sessions  that  I  sat  in 
parUament  were  a  school  of  civil  prudence,  the  first  and 
most  essential  virtue  of  an  historian. 

The  volume  of  my  history,  which  had  been  somewhat 
delayed  by  the  novelty  and  tumult  of  a  first  session,  was 
now  ready  for  the  press.  After  the  perilous  adventure 
had  been  declined  by  my  friend  Mr.  Elmsly,  I  agreed, 
upon  easy  terms,  with  Mr.  Thomas  Cadell,  a  respectable 
bookseller,  and  Mr.  William  Strahan  an  eminent  printer ; 
and  they  undertook  the  care  and  risk  of  the  publication, 
which  derived  more  credit  from  the  name  of  the  shop 
than  from  that  of  the  author.  The  last  revisal  of  the 
proofs  was  submitted  to  my  vigilance ;  and  many  blem- 
ishes of  style,  which  had  been  invisible  in  the  manuscript, 
were  discovered  and  corrected  in  the  printed  sheet.  So 
moderate  were  our  hopes,  that  the  original  impression 
had  been  stinted  to  five  hundred,  till  the  number  was 
doubled  by  the  prophetic  taste  of  Mr.  Strahan.  During 
this  awful  interval  I  was  neither  elated  by  the  ambition 
of  fame,  nor  depressed  by  the  apprehension  of  contempt. 
My  diligence  and  accuracy  were  attested  by  my  own 
conscience.  History  is  the  most  popular  species  of 
writiug,  since  it  can  adapt  itself  to  the  highest  or  the 
lowest  capacity.  I  had  chosen  an  illustrious  subject. 
Rome  is  familiar  to  the  school-boy  and  the  statesman ; 
and  my  narrative  was  deduced  from  the  last  period  of 
classical  reading.  I  had  likewise  flattered  myself,  that 
an  age  of  light  and  liberty  would  receive,  without  scan- 


194 


MR,  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDON. 


dal,  an  inquiry  into  the  human  causes  of  the  progress 
and  establishment  of  Christianity. 

I  am  at  a  loss  how  to  describe  the  success  of  the  woi-k 
without  betraying  the  vanity  of  the  writer.  The  first 
impression  was  exhausted  in  a  few  days  ;  a  second  and 
third  edition  were  scarcely  adequate  to  the  demand  ;  and 
the  bookseller's  property  was  twice  invaded  by  the 
pirates  of  Dublin.  My  book  was  on  every  table,  and 
almost  on  every  toilette  ;  the  historian  was  crowned  by 
the  taste  or  fashion  of  the  day ;  nor  was  the  general 
voice  disturbed  by  the  barking-  of  any  profane  critic. 
The  favour  of  mankind  is  most  freely  bestowed  on  a 
new  acquaintance  of  any  original  merit ;  and  the  mutual 
surprise  of  the  public  and  their  favourite  is  productive 
of  those  warm  sensibilities,  which  at  a  second  meeting 
can  no  longer  be  rekindled.  If  I  listened  to  the  music  of 
praise,  I  was  more  seriously  satisfied  with  the  approba- 
tion of  my  judges.  The  candour  of  Dr.  Robertson  em- 
braced his  disciple.  A  letter  from  Mr.  Hume  overpaid 
the  labour  of  ten  years ;  but  I  have  never  presumed  to 
accept  a  place  in  the  triumverate  of  British  historians. 

That  curious  and  original  letter  will  amuse  the  reader, 
and  his  gratitude  should  shield  my  free  communication 
from  the  reproach  of  vanity. 

"Edinburgh,  \8th  March  1776. 

"  Dear  Sir, — As  I  ran  through  your  volume  of  history 
with  great  avidity  and  impatience,  I  cannot  forbear  dis- 
covering somewhat  of  the  same  impatience  in  returning 
you  thanks  for  your  agreeable  present,  and  expressing  the 
satisfaction  which  the  performance  has  given  me. 
Whether  I  consider  the  dignity  of  your  style,  the  depth 


MR.  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDOiV.  195 

of  your  matter,  or  the  extensiveness  of  your  learning,  I 
must  regard  the  work  as  equally  the  object  of  esteem ; 
and  I  own  that  if  I  had  not  previously  had  the  happiness 
of  your  personal  acquaintance,  such  a  performance  from 
an  Englishman  in  our  age  would  have  given  me  some 
surprise.  You  may  smile  at  this  sentiment ;  but  as  it 
seems  to  me  that  your  countrymen,  for  almost  a 
whole  generation,  have  given  themselves  up  to  bar- 
barous and  absurd  faction,  and  have  totally  neglected 
all  polite  letters,  I  no  longer  expected  any  valuable  pro- 
duction ever  to  come  from  them.  I  know  it  will  give 
you  pleasure,  as  it  did  me,  to  find  that  all  the  men  of 
letters  in  this  place  concur  in  their  admiration  of  your 
work,  and  in  their  anxious  desire  of  your  continu- 
ing it. 

"When  I  heard  of  your  undertaking,  which  was 
some  time  ago,  I  own  I  was  a  little  curious  to  see  how 
you  would  extricate  yourself  from  the  subject  of  your 
two  last  chapters.  I  think  you  have  observed  a  very 
prudent  temperament ;  but  it  was  impossible  to  treat 
the  subject  so  as  not  to  give  grounds  of  suspicion  against 
you,  and  you  may  expect  that  a  clamour  will  arise. 
This,  if  any  thing,  will  retard  your  success  with  the 
public ;  for  in  every  other  respect  your  work  is  calcu- 
lated to  be  popular.  But  among  many  other  marks  of 
decline,  the  prevalence  of  superstition  in  England  prog- 
nosticates the  fall  of  philosophy  and  decay  of  taste ; 
and  though  nobody  be  more  capable  than  you  to  revive 
them,  you  will  probably  find  a  struggle  in  your  first  ad- 
vances. 

"  I  see  you  entertain  a  great  doubt  with  regard  to  the 


196 


MR.  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDON. 


authenticity  of  the  poems  of  Ossian.  You  are  certainly 
right  in  so  doing.  It  is  indeed  strange  that  any  men  of 
sense  could  have  imagined  it  possible,  that  above  twenty 
thousand  verses,  along  with  numberless  historical  facts, 
could  have  been  preserved  by  oral  tradition  during 
fifty  generations,  by  the  rudest,  perhaps,  of  all  the 
European  nations,  the  most  necessitous,  the  most  turbu- 
lent, and  the  most  unsettled.  Where  a  supposition  is  so 
contrary  to  common  sense,  any  positive  evidence  of  it 
ought  never  to  be  regarded.  Men  run  with  great 
avidity  to  give  their  evidence  in  favour  of  what  flatters 
their  passions  and  their  national  prejudices.  You  are 
therefore  over  and  above  indulgent  to  us  in  speaking  of 
the  matter  with  hesitation. 

"  I  must  inform  you  that  we  are  all  very  anxious  to 
hear  that  you  have  fully  collected  the  materials  for  your 
second  volume,  and  that  you  are  even  considerably  ad- 
vanced in  the  composition  of  it.  1  speak  this  more  in 
the  name  of  my  friends  than  in  my  own ;  as  I  cannot 
expect  to  live  so  long  as  to  see  the  publication  of  it. 
Your  ensuing  volume  will  be  more  delicate  than  the  pre- 
ceding, but  I  trust  in  your  prudence  for  extricating  you 
from  the  difficulties ;  and  at  all  events,  you  have 
courage  to  despise  the  clamour  of  bigots.  I  am,  with 
great  regard,  dear  sir,  your  most  obedient,  and  most 
bumble  servant, 

"  David  Hume." 
Some  weeks  afterwards  I  had  the  melancholy  pleasure 
of  seeing  Mr.  Hume  in  his  passage  through  London  ;  his 
body  feeble,  his  mind  firm.  On  the  25th  of  August  of  the 
same  year,  177G,  he  died  at  Edinburgh  the  death  of  a 
philosopher. 


MR.  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDON. 


197 


My  second  excursion  to  Paris  was  determined  by  the 
pressing  invitation  of  M.  and  Madame  Necker,  who  had 
visited  England  in  the  preceding  summer.  On  my  arri- 
val I  found  M.  Necker  director-general  of  the  finances,  in 
the  first  bloom  of  power  and  popularity.  His  private 
fortune  enabled  him  to  support  a  liberal  establishment ; 
and  his  wife,  whose  talents  and  virtues  I  had  long 
admired,  was  admirably  qualified  to  preside  in  the  con- 
versation of  her  table  and  drawing-room.  As  their 
friend,  I  was  introduced  to  the  best  company  of  both 
sexes ;  to  the  foreign  ministers  of  all  nations,  and  to  the 
first  names  and  characters  of  France  ;  who  distinguished 
me  by  such  marks  of  civility  and  kindness,  as  gratitude  will 
not  suffer  me  to  forget,  and  modesty  will  not  allow  me 
to  enumerate.  The  fashionable  suppers  often  broke  into 
the  morning  hours ;  yet  I  occasionally  consulted  the 
royal  library,  and  that  of  the  abbey  of  St.  Germain,  and 
m  the  free  use  of  their  books  at  home,  I  had  always 
reason  to  praise  the  liberality  erf  those  institutions.  The 
society  of  men  of  letters  I  neither  courted  nor  declined  ; 
but  I  was  happy  in  the  acquaintance  of  M.  de  BufFon, 
who  united  with  a  sublime  genius  the  most  amiable  sim- 
plicity of  mind  and  manners.  At  the  table  of  my  old 
friend,  M.  de  Foncemagne,  I  was  involved  in  a  dispute 
with  the  Abbe  de  Mably ;  and  his  jealous,  irascible  spirit 
revenged  itself  on  a  work  which  he  was  incapable  of 
reading  in  the  original. 

As  I  might  be  partial  in  my  own  cause,  I  shall  trans- 
cribe the  words  of  an  unknown  critic,  observing  only, 
that  this  dispute  had  been  preceded  by  another  on  the 
English  constitution,  at  the  house  of  the  Countess  d^ 
Froulay,  and  old  Jansenist  lady. 


198 


MR.  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDON 


"  You  were,  my  dear  Theodon,  at  M.  de  Foncemagne's 
house  when  the  Abbe  Mably  and  Mr.  Gibbon  dined  there 
with  a  number  of  guests.  The  conversation  ran  almost 
entirely  upon  history.  The  Abb^,  being  a  profound  poli- 
tician, turned  it,  while  at  the  dessert,  upon  the  adminis- 
tration of  affairs  ;  and  as  by  genius,  temper,  and  a  habit 
of  admiring  Livy,  he  values  only  the  republican  system, 
he  began  to  boast  of  the  excellence  of  republics ;  being 
well  persuaded  that  the  learned  Englishman  would 
approve  of  all  he  said,  and  admire  the  profundity  of 
genius  that  had  enabled  a  Frenchman  to  discover  all 
these  advantages.  But  Mr.  Gibbon,  knowing  by  expe- 
rience the  inconveniences  of  a  popular  government,  was 
not  at  all  of  his  opinion,  and  generously  took  up  the 
defence  of  monarchy.  The  Abbe  wished  to  convince 
him  out  of  Livy,  and  by  some  arguments  drawn  from 
Plutarch  in  favour  of  the  Spartans.  Mr.  Gibbon,  being 
endowed  with  a  most  excellent  memory,  and  having  all 
events  present  to  his  mind,  soon  got  the  command  of  the 
conversation.  The  Abbe  grew  angry,  they  lost  posses- 
sion of  themselves,  and  said  hard  things  of  each  other ; 
the  Englishman,  retaining  his  native  coolness,  watched 
for  his  advantages,  and  pressed  the  Abbe  with  increasing 
success,  in  proportion  as  he  was  more  disturbed  by  pas- 
sion. The  conversation  grew  warmer,  and  was  broken 
off  by  M.  de  Foncemagne's  rising  from  table  and  passing 
into  the  parlour,  where  no  one  was  tempted  to  renew  it." 
— Supplement  de  la  Maniere  d'ecriro  I'Histoire,  page 
125,  &c.* 

*  Of  tho  Voluminous  writings  of  the  Abbe  de  Mably,  (see  his  Eloge  by 
the  Abbo  Brizard,)  the  Principes  du  Droit  public  de  I'Europo,  and  the 
first  part  of  the  Observations  sur  I'Histoire  de  France,  may  be  deeorvodly 


MB.  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDON. 


199 


Nearly  two  years  had  elapsed  between  the  publication 
of  my  first  and  the  commencement  of  my  second  vo- 
lume :  and  the  causes  must  be  ass'f^ned  of  this  long 
delay.  1.  After  a  short  holiday,  I  indulged  my  curiosity 
in  some  studies  of  a  very  different  nature,  a  course  of 
anatomy,  which  was  demonstrated  by  Dr.  Hunter ;  and 
some  lessons  of  chymistry,  which  were  delivered  by  Mr. 
Higgins.  The  principles  of  these  sciences,  and  a  taste 
for  books  of  natural  history,  contributed  to  multiply  my 
ideas  and  images ;  and  the  anatomist  and  chymist  may 
sometimes  track  me  in  their  own  snow.  2.  I  dived, 
perhaps  too  deeply,  into  the  mud  of  the  Arian  contro- 
versy ;  and  many  days  of  reading,  thinking,  and  writing 
were  consumed  in  the  pursuit  of  a  phantom.  3.  It  is 
difficult  to  arrange,  with  order  and  perspecuity,  the  va- 
rious  transactions  of  the  age  of  Constantino ;  and  so  much 
was  I  displeased  with  the  first  essay,  that  I  committed  to 
the  flames  about  fifty  sheets.  4.  The  six  months  of  Paris 
and  pleasure  must  be  deducted  from  the  account.  But 

praised  ;  and  even  the  Maniere  d'ecrire  I'Histoire  contains  several  useful 
precepts  and  judicious  remarks.  M ably  was  a  lover  of  virtue  and  freedom; 
but  his  virtue  waa  austere,  and  his  freedom  was  impatient  of  an  equal. 
Kings,  magistrates,  nobles,  and  successful  writers,  were  the  objects  of  his 
contempt,  or  hatred,  or  envy ;  but  his  illiberal  abuse  of  Voltaire,  Hume 
Buffon,  the  Abbe  Baynal,  Dr  Robertson,  and  tutti  quanti,  can  be  injurious 
only  to  himself. 

"  Is  anythiug  more  tedious,"  says  the  polite  censor,  "  than  a  Mr,  Gibbon, 
who,  in  his  never  ending  history  of  the  Roman  Emperors,  interrupts  every 
instant  his  slow  and  insipid  narration  to  explain  to  you  the  causes  of  events 
that  you  are  going  to  read."  (Maniere  d'ecrire  I'Histoire,  p.  184.  See 
another  passage,  p.  280.)  Yet  I  am  indebted  to  the  Abbe  de  Mably  for 
two  such  advocates  as  the  anonymous  French  critic  and  my  friend  Mr. 
Hayley.    (Hayley's  Works,  8vo.  edit.  vol.  ii.  p.  261—263.) 


200 


MH.  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDON. 


when  I  resumed  my  task  I  felt  my  impiovement ;  1  was 
now  master  of  my  style  and  subject,  and  while  the  mea- 
sure of  my  daily  performance  was  enlarged,  I  discovered 
less  reason  to  cancel  or  correct.  It  has  always  been  my 
practice  to  cast  a  long  paragraph  in  a  single  mould,  to 
try  it  by  my  ear,  to  deposit  it  in  my  memory,  but  to  sus- 
pend the  action  of  the  pen  till  I  had  given  the  last  polish 
to  my  work.  Shall  I  add,  that  I  never  found  my  mind 
more  vigorous,  nor  my  composition  more  happy,  than  in 
the  winter  hurry  of  society  and  parliament  ? 

Had  I  believed  that  the  majority  of  English  readers 
were  so  fondly  attached  even  to  the  name  and  shadow  of 
Christianity  ;  had  I  foreseen  that  the  pious,  the  timid,  and 
the  prudent,  would  feel,  or  affect  to  feel,  with  such  exqui- 
site sensibility :  I  might,  perhaps,  have  softened  the  two 
invidious  chapters,  which  would  create  many  enemies, 
and  conciliate  few  friends.  But  the  shaft  was  shot,  the 
alarm  was  sounded,  and  I  could  only  rejoice,  that  if  the 
voice  of  our  priests  was  clamorous  and  bitter,  their 
hands  were  disarmed  from  the  power  of  persecution.  I 
adhered  to  the  wise  resolution  of  trusting  myself  and  my 
writings  to  the  candour  of  the  public,  till  Mr.  Davis  of 
Oxford  presumed  to  attack,  not  the  faith,  but  ttie  fidelity 
of  the  historian.  My  Vindication,  expressive  of  less 
anger  than  contempt,  amused  for  a  moment  the  busy  and 
idle  metropolis ;  and  the  most  rational  part  of  the  laity, 
and  even  of  the  clergy,  appear  to  have  been  satisfied  of 
my  innocence  and  accuracy.  I  would  not  print  this  Vin- 
dication in  quarto,  lest  it  should  be  bound  and  preserved 
with  the  history  itself  At  the  distance  of  twelve  years, 
I  calmly  affirm  my  judgment  of  Davis,  Chelsum,  &c.  A 


MR.  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDON. 


201 


victory  over  such  antagonists  was  a  sufficient  humilia- 
tion. They,  however,  were  rewarded  in  this  world. 
Poor  Chelsum  was  indeed  neglected ;  and  I  dare  not 
boast  the  making  Dr.  Watson  a  bishop  ;  he  is  a  prelate 
of  a  large  mind  and  liberal  spirit  :*  but  I  enjoyed  the 
pleasure  of  giving  a  Royal  pension  to  Mr.  Davis,  and  of 
collating  Dr.  Apthorpe  to  an  archi-episcopal  living.  Their 
success  encouraged  the  zeal  of  Taylor  the  Arian,f  and 
Milner  the  Methodist,J  with  many  others,  whom  it  would 
be  difficult  to  remember,  and  tedious  to  rehearse.  The 
list  of  my  adversaries,  however,  was  graced  with  the 
more  respectable  names  of  Dr.  Priestly,  Sir  David  Dal- 
rymple,  and  Dr.  White ;  and  every  polemic,  of  either 
university,  discharged  his  sermon  or  pamphlet  against  the 
impenetrable  silence  of  the  Roman  historian.  In  his  His- 
tory of  the  Corruptions  of  Christianity,  Dr.  Priestly  threw 
down  his  two  gauntlets  to  Bishop  Hurd  and  Mr.  Gibbon. 
I  declined  the  challenge  in  a  letter,  exhorting  my  oppo- 
nent to  enlighten  the  world  by  his  philosophical  dis- 
coveries, and  to  remember  that  the  merit  of  his  predeces- 
sor Servetus  is  now  reduced  to  a  single  passage,  which 

*  See  Lettere,  No.  LXXXIH.  LXXXVIIL  and  CXIV. 

t  The  stupendous  title,  Thoughts  on  the  Causes  of  the  grand  Apostacy, 
at  first  agitated  my  nerves,  till  I  discovered  that  it  was  the  apostacy  of  the 
whole  church,  since  the  Council  of  Nice,  from  Mr.  Taylor's  private  religion. 
His  book  is  a  thorough  mixture  of  high  enthusiasm  and  low  buffoonery,  and 
the  Millenium  is  a  fundamental  article  of  his  creed. 

A. 

t  From  his  grammar-school  at  Kingston-npon-Hull,  Mr.  Joseph  Milner 
pronounces  an  anathema  against  all  rational  religion.  His  faith  is  a  divioe 
taste,  a  spiritual  inspiration  ;  his  church  is  a  mystic  and  invisible  body:  the 
natural  Christians,  such  as  Mr.  Locke,  who  believe  and  interpret  the 
Scriptures,  are,  in  his  judgment,  no  better  than  profane  infidels. 


202 


MR.  GIBBON  SKTTLP:S  IN  LONDON. 


indicates  the  smaller  circulation  of  the  blood  through  the 
lungs,  from  and  to  the  heart.*  Instead  of  listening  to 
this  friendly  advice,  the  dauntless  philosopher  of  Birming- 
ham continued  to  fire  away  his  double  battery  against 
those  who  believed  too  little,  and  those  who  believed  too 
much.  From  my  replies  he  has  nothing  to  hope  or  fear: 
but  his  Socinian  shield  has  repeatedly  been  pierced  by  the 
spear  of  Horslcy,  and  his  trumpet  of  sedition  may  at 
length  awaken  the  magistrates  of  a  free  country. 

The  profession  and  rank  of  Sir  David  Dalrymple  (now 
a  Lord  of  Session)  has  given  a  more  decent  colour  to  his 
style.  But  he  scrutinized  each  separate  passage  of  the 
two  chapters  with  the  dry  minuteness  of  a  special 
pleader ;  and  as  he  was  always  solicitous  to  make,  he 
may  have  succeeded  sometimes  in  finding  a  flaw.  In  his 
Annals  of  Scotland,  he  has  shown  himself  a  diligent  col- 
lector and  an  accurate  critic. 

I  have  praised,  and  I  still  praise,  the  eloquent  sermons 
which  were  preached  in  St.  Mary's  pulpit  at  Oxford  by 
Dr.  White.  If  he  assaulted  me  with  some  degree  of 
illiberal  acrimony,  in  such  a  place,  and  before  such  an 
audience,  he  was  obliged  to  speak  the  language  of  the 
country.  I  smiled  at  a  passage  in  one  of  his  private  let- 
ters to  Mr.  Badcock :  "  The  part  where  we  encounter 
Gibbon  must  be  brilliant  and  striking." 

In  a  sermon  preached  before  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge, Dr.  Edwards  complimented  a  work,  "which  can 
only  perish  with  the  language  itself;"  and  esteems  the 
author  a  formidable  enemy.  He  is,  indeed,  astonished 
that  more  learning  and  ingenuity  has  not  been  shown  in 

•  Astruc,  do  la  Structure  du  Couur,  torn.  i.  77,  79,  Letter  CXLIV. 


MR.  GIBBON  SETTLES  IN  LONDON. 


203 


the  defence  of  Israel ;  that  the  prelates  and  dignitaries  of 
the  church  (alas,  good  man  !)  did  not  vie  with  each  other 
whose  stone  should  sink  the  deepest  in  the  forehead  of 
this  Goliah. 

"  But  the  force  of  truth  will  oblige  us  to  confess,  that 
in  the  attacks  which  have  been  levelled  against  our  scep- 
tical historian,  we  can  discover  but  slender  traces  of 
profound  and  exquisite  erudition,  of  solid  criticism  and 
accurate  investigation  ;  but  we  are  too  frequently  dis- 
gusted by  vague  and  inconclusive  reasoning ;  by  unsea- 
sonable banter  and  senseless  witticisms ;  by  embittered 
bigotry  and  enthusiastic  jargon ;  by  futile  cavils  and 
illiberal  invectives.  Proud  and  elated  by  the  weakness 
of  his  antagonists,  he  condescends  not  to  handle  the 
sword  of  controversy."* 

Let  me  frankly  own  that  I  was  startled  at  the  first  dis- 
charge of  ecclesiastical  ordinance  ;  but  as  soon  as  I  found 
that  this  empty  noise  was  mischievous  only  in  the  inten- 
tion, my  fear  was  converted  into  indignation ;  and  every 
feeling  of  indignation  or  curiosity  has  long  since  subsided 
in  pure  and  placid  indifference. 

*  Monthly  Review,  Oct.  1790. 


CHAP.  XXL 


MR.  GIBBON  ENGAGES  IN  POLITICS. 

The  prosecution  of  my  history  was  soon  afterwards 
checked  by  another  controversy  of  a  very  different  kind. 
At  the  request  of  the  Lord  Chancellor,  and  of  Lord 
Weymouth,  then  secretary  of  state,  I  vindicated,  against 
the  French  manifesto,  the  justice  of  the  British  arms.  The 
whole  correspondence  of  Lord  Stormont,  our  late  am- 
bassador at  Paris,  was  submitted  to  my  inspection,  and 
the  Memoire  Justificatif,  which  I  composed  in  French, 
was  first  approved  by  the  cabinet  ministers,  and  then 
delivered  as  a  state  paper  to  the  courts  of  Europe.  The 
style  and  manner  are  praised  by  Be,umarchais  himself, 
who,  in  his  private  quarrel,  attempted  a  reply :  but  he 
flatters  me,  by  ascribing  the  memoir  to  Lord  Stormont ; 
and  the  grossness  of  his  invective  betrays  the  loss  of 
temper  and  of  wit ;  he  acknowledged,*  that  "  the  style 
would  not  be  ungraceful,  nor  the  reasoning  unjust,"  &c., 
if  the  facts  were  true  which  he  undertakes  to  disprove. 
For  these  facts  my  credit  is  not  pledged  ;  I  spoke  as  a 

*  ffiuvres  de  Beaumarcliais,  torn.  iii.  p.  299,  355. 


MB.  GIBBON  ENGAGES  IN  POLITICS. 


205 


lawyer  from  my  brief.  But  the  veracity  of  Bcaumar- 
chais  may  be  estimated  from  the  assertion  that  France, 
by  the  treaty  of  Paris  (1763),  was  limited  to  a  certain 
number  of  ships  of  war.  On  the  application  of  the 
Duke  of  Choiseul,  he  was  obliged  to  retract  this  daring 
falsehood. 

Among  the  honourable  connexions  which  I  had  formed, 
I  may  justly  be  proud  of  the  friendship  of  Mr.  Wedder- 
burne,  at  that  time  attorney-general,  who  now  illustrates 
the  title  of  Lord  Loughborough,  and  the  office  of  Chief 
Justice  of  the  Common  Pleas.  By  his  strong  I'ecom- 
mendation,  and  the  favourable  disposition  of  Lord  North, 
I  was  appointed  one  of  the  lords  commissioners  of  trade 
and  plantations ;  and  my  private  income  was  enlarged  by 
a  clear  addition  of  between  seven  and  eight  hundred 
pounds  a  year.  The  fancy  of  aijj  hostile  orator  may  paint, 
in  the  strong  colours  of  ridicule,  "  the  perpetual  virtual 
adjournment,  and  the  unbroken  sitting  vacation  of  the 
board  of  trade."*  But  it  must  be  allowed  that  our  duty 
was  not  intolerably  severe,  and  that  I  enjoyed  many 
days  and  weeks  of  repose,  without  being  called  away 
from  the  library  to  the  office.  My  acceptance  of  a  place  • 
provoked  some  of  the  leaders  of  opposition,  with  whom  I 
had  lived  in  habits  of  intimacy ;  and  I  was  most  unjustly 

*  I  can  never  forget  the  delight  with  which  that  diffusive  and  ingenious 
orator,  Mr.  Burke,  was  heard  by  all  sides  of  the  house,  and  even  by  those 
whose  existence  he  proscribed.  (See  Mr.  Burke's  speech  on  the  Bill  of 
Reform,  p.  72 — 80.)  The  lords  of  trade  blushed  at  their  insignificancy, 
and  Mr.  Eden's  appeal  to  the  2500  volumes  of  our  Reports,  serv'ed  only  to 
excite  a  general  laugh.  I  take  this  opportunity  of  certifying  the  correct- 
ness of  Mr.  Buike's  printed  speeches,  which  I  have  heard  and  read. 


206 


MR.  GIBBON  ENGAGES  IN  POLITICS. 


accused  of  deserting  a  party,  in  which  I  had  never  en- 
listed.* 

*  From  Edward  Gibbon,  Esq.  to  Esq. 

"  2nd  July,  1779. 

"  Dear  Sir, — ^Yesterday  I  received  a  very  interesting  communicatioa 
from  my  friend,  the  attoniey-general,  whose  kijid  and  honourable  behaviour 
towards  me  I  must  always  remember  with  the  highest  gratitude.  He  in- 
formed me  that,  iu  consequence  of  an  arrangement,  a  place  at  the  board  of 
trade  was  reserved  for  me,  and  that  as  soon  as  I  signified  my  acceptance 
of  it,  he  was  satisfied  no  farther  difficulties  would  arise.  My  answer  to  him 
was  sincere  and  explicit.  I  told  him  that  I  was  far  from  approving  all  the 
past  measures  of  the  administration,  even  some  of  those  in  which  I  myself 
had  silently  concurred :  that  I  saw,  with  the  rest  of  ihe  world,  many 
capital  defects  in  the  characters  of  some  of  the  present  ministe/s,  and  was 
sorry  that  iu  so  alarming  a  situation  of  public  affairs,  the  country  had  not 
the  assistance  of  several  able  and  honest  men  who  are  now  in  opposition. 
But  that  I  had  not  formed  with  any  of  those  persons  in  opposition  any 
engagements  or  connexions  which  could  iu  the  least  restrain  or  affect  my 
parliamentary  conduct ;  that  I  could  not  discover  among  them  such  supe- 
rior advantages,  either  of  measures  or  of  abilities,  as  could  make  me  con- 
eider  it  as  a  duty  to  attach  myself  to  their  cause  ;  and  that  I  clearly  un- 
derstood, from  the  public  and  private  language  of   ,  one  of  their 

leaders,  that  in  the  actual  state  of  the  country,  he  himself  was  seriously  of 
opinion  that  opposition  could  not  tend  to  any  good  purpose,  and  might  be 
productive  of  much  mischief;  that,  for  those  reasons,  I  saw  no  objections 
which  could  prevent  me  frono  accepting  an  office  under  the  present 
government,  and  that  I  was  ready  to  take  a  step  which  I  found  to  be  con- 
sistent both  with  my  interest  and  my  honour. 

■"  It  must  now  be  decided,  whether  I  may  continue  to  live  in  England, 
or  whether  I  must  soon  withdraw  myself  into  a  kind  of  philosophical  exile 
in  Switzerland.  My  father  left  his  affairs  in  a  state  of  embarrassment,  and 
even  of  distress.  My  attempts  to  dispose  of  a  part  of  my  lauded  property 
have  hitherto  been  disappointed,  and  are  not  likely  at  present  to  bo  more 
BUcceaBful ;  and  my  plan  of  expense,  though  moderate  in  itself,  deserves 
the  namo  of  extravagance,  since  it  exceeds  my  real  income.  The  addition 
of  the  salary  which  is  now  offered  wiU  make  my  situation  perfectly  easy ; 
but  I  hope  you  will  do  me  the  justice  to  beheve  that  my  mind  coidd  not 
be  so,  unless  I  were  satisfied  of  the  rectitude  of  my  own  conduct." 


MR.  GIBBON  ENGAGES  IN  POLITICS.  207 

The  aspect  of  the  next  session  of  parliament  was 
stormy  and  perilous  ;  county  meetings,  petitions,  and 
committes  of  correspondence,  announced  the  public  dis- 
content ;  and  instead  of  voting  with  a  triumphant  majority» 
the  friends  of  government  were  often  exposed  to  a 
struggle,  and  sometimes  to  a  defeat.  The  House  of 
Commons  adopted  Mr.  Dunning's  motion,  "  That  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Crown  had  increased,  was  increasing, 
and  ought  to  be  diminished :"  and  Mr.  Burke's  bill  of 
reform  was  framed  with  skill,  introduced  with  eloquence, 
and  supported  by  numbers.  Our  late  president,  the 
American  secretary  of  state,  very  narrowly  escaped  the 
sentence  of  proscription ;  but  the  unfortunate  board  of 
trade  was  abolished  in  the  committee  by  a  small  majority 
(207  to  199)  of  eight  votes.  The  storm,  however,  blew 
over  for  a  time  ;  a  large  defection  of  country  gentlemen 
eluded  the  sanguine  hopes  of  the  patriots :  the  lords  of 
trade  were  revived ;  adminstration  recovered  their 
strength  and  spirit ;  and  the  flames  of  London,  which 
were  kindled  by  a  mischievous  madman,  admonished  ail 
thinking  men  of  the  danger  of  an  appeal  to  the  people. 
In  the  premature  dissolution  which  followed  this  session 
of  parliament,  I  lost  my  seat.  Mr.  Eiiot  was  now  deeply 
engaged  in  the  measures  of  opposition,  and  the  electors 
of  Liskeard*  are  commonly  of  the  same  opinion  as  Mr. 
Eliot. 

In  this  interval  of  my  senatorial  life,  I  published  the 
second  and  third  volumes  of  the  Decline  and  Fall.  My 
ecclesiastical  history  still  breathed  the  same  spirit  of  free- 


*  The  borough  which  Mr.  Gibbon  had  represented  in  Parliament. 


208 


MR.  GIBBON  ENGAGES  IN  POLITICS. 


dom  ;  but  protestant  zeal  is  more  indifferent  to  the  charac- 
ters and  controversies  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries.  My 
obstinate  silence  had  damped  the  ardour  of  the  polemics. 
Dr.  Watson,  the  most  candid  of  my  adversaries,  assured 
me  that  he  had  no  thoughts  of  ]-enevving  the  attack,  and 
my  impartial  balance  of  the  virtues  and  vices  of  Julian 
was  generally  praised.  This  truce  was  interrupted  only 
by  some  animadversions  of  the  Catholics  of  Italy,  and 
by  some  angry  letters  of  Mr.  Travis,  who  made  me 
personally  responsible  for  condemning,  with  the  best 
critics,  the  spurious  text  of  the  three  heavenly  witnesses. 

The  piety  or  prudence  of  my  Italian  translator  has  pro- 
vided an  antidote  against  the  poison  of  his  original.  The 
5th  and  7th  volumes  are  armed  with  five  letters  from  an 
anonymous  divine  to  his  friends,  Foothead  and  Kirk,  two 
English  students  at  Rome ;  and  this  meritorious  service  is 
commended  by  Monsignor  Stonor,  a  prelate  of  the  same 
nation,  who  discovers  much  venom  in  the  Jluid  and  ner- 
vous style  of  Gibbon.  The  critical  essay  at  the  end  of 
the  third  volume  was  furnished  by  the  Abbate  Nicola 
Spedalieri,  whose  zeal  has  gradually  swelled  to  a  more 
solid  confutation  in  two  quarto  volumes. — Shall  I  be 
excused  for  not  having  read  them  ? 

The  brutal  insolence  of  Mr.  Travis's  challenge  can 
only  be  excused  by  the  absence  of  learning,  judgment, 
and  humanity ;  and  to  that  excuse  he  has  the  fairest  or 
foulest  pretension.  Compared  with  Archdeacon  Travis, 
Chelsum  and  Davis  assumes  the  title  of  respectable 
enemies. 

The  bigoted  advocate  of  popes  and  monks  may  be 
turned  over  even  to  the  bigots  of  Oxford;   and  the 


MR.  GIBBON  ENGAGES  IN  POLITICS. 


209 


wretched  Travis  still  smarts  under  the  lash  of  the  merciless 
Person.  I  consider  Mr.  Person's  answer  to  Archdeacon 
Travis  as  the  most  acute  and  accurate  piece  of  criticism 
which  has  appeared  since  the  days  of  Bentlcy.  His 
strictures  are  founded  in  argument,  enriched  with  learn- 
ing, and  enlivened  with  wit ;  and  his  adversary  neither 
deserves  nor  finds  any  quarter  at  his  hands.  The  evi- 
dence of  the  three  heavenly  witnesses  would  now  be  re- 
jected in  any  court  of  justice:  but  prejudice  is  blind, 
authority  is  deaf,  and  our  vulgar  bibles  will  ever  be  pol- 
luted by  this  spurious  text,  "  sedet  aaternumque  sedebit." 
The  more  learned  ecclesiastics  will  indeed  have  the 
secret  satisfaction  of  reprobating  in  the  closet  what  they 
read  in  the  church. 

I  perceived,  and  without  surprise,  the  coldness  and 
even  prejudice  of  the  town  ;  nor  could  a  whisper  escape 
my  ear,  that,  in  the  judgment  of  many  readers,  my  con- 
tinuation was  much  inferior  to  the  original  attempts.  An 
author  who  cannot  ascend  will  a'ways  appear  to  sink : 
envy  was  now  prepared  for  my  reception,  and  the  zeal  of 
my  religious,  was  fortified  by  the  motive  of  my  political 
enemies.  Bishop  Newton,  in  writing  his  own  life,  was 
at  full  liberty  to  declare  how  much  he  himself  and  two 
eminent  brethren  were  disgusted  by  Mr.  G.'s  prolixity, 
tediousness,  and  affectation.  But  the  old  man  should  not 
have  indulged  his  zeal  in  a  false  and  feeble  charge 
against  the  historian,*  who  had  faithfully  and  even  cau- 

*  Extract  from  Mr,  Gibbon's  Common-place  Book- 

Thomas  Newton,  Bishop  of  Bristol  and  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  was  bom  at 
Litchfield  on  the  Slst  of  December,  1703,  O.  S.  (Ist  January,  1704,  N.  S.), 
and  died  the  I4th  of  February,  1782,  in  the  79th  year  of  his  age.    A  few 


210 


ME.  GIBBON  ENGAGES  IN  POLITICS. 


tiously  rendered  Dr.  Burnet's  meaning  by  the  alternative 
of  sleep  or  repose.    That  philosophic  divine  supposes, 

days  before  his  death  he  finished  the  memoirs  of  his  own  life,  which  have 
been  prefixed  to  an  edition  of  his  posthumous  works,  first  published  in 
quarto,  and  since  (1787)  republished  in  six  volumes  octavo. 

P.  173,  174.  Some  books  were  published  in  1781,  which  employed 
some  of  the  Bishop's  leisure  hours,  and  during  his  illness.  Mr.  Gibbon's 
History  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empii-e  he  read  throughout, 
but  it  by  no  means  answered  his  expectation  ;  for  he  found  it  rather  a  prolix 
and  tedious  performance,  his  matter  iminteresting,  and  his  style  afiected;  his 
testimonials  not  to  be  depended  upon,  and  his  frequent  scofis  at  religion 
offensive  to  every  sober  mind.  He  had  before  been  convicted  of  making 
false  quotations,  which  should  have  taught  him  more  prudence  and  cau- 
tion. But,  without  examining  his  authorities,  there  is  one  which  must 
necessarily  strike  every  man  who  has  read  Dr.  Burnet's  Treatise  de  Statu 
Mortuorum.  In  vol.  iii.  p.  99,  Mr.  G.  has  the  following  note , — "  Burnet 
(de  S.  M.  p.  56 — 84)  collects  the  opinions  of  the  Fathers,  as  far  as  they 
assert  the  sleep  or  repose  of  human  souls  till  the  day  of  judgment.  He 
afterwards  exposes  (p.  91)  the  inconveniences  which  must  arise  if  they 
possessed  a  more  active  and  sensible  existence.  Who  would  not  from 
hence  infer  that  Dr.  B.  wasan  advocate  for  the  sleep  or  insensible  existence  of 
the  soul  after  death  1  whereas  his  doctrine  is  directly  the  contrary.  Ho 
has  employed  some  chapters  in  treating  of  the  state  of  human  souls  in  the 
interval  between  death  and  the  resun'ection;  and  after  various  proofs  from 
reason,  from  Scripture,  and  the  Fathers,  his  conclusions  are,  that  human 
souls  exist  after  their  separation  from  the  body,  that  they  are  in  a  good  or 
evil  state  according  to  their  good  or  evil  behaviour,  but  that  neither  their 
happiness  nor  their  misery  will  be  complete  or  perfect  before  the  day  of 
judgment.  His  argumentation  is  thus  summed  up  at  the  end  of  the  4tU 
chapter — "Ex  quibus  constat  primo,  animas  superesse  extincto  corpore  ; 
secundo,  bonas  bene,  malas  male  se  habituras ;  tertio,  nec  illis  summam 
felicitatem,  nec  his  summam  miseriam,  accessuram  esseante  diem  judicii.'  " 
(The  Bishop's  reading  the  whole  was  a  greater  comphment  to  the  work 
than  was  paid  to  it  by  two  of  the  most  eminent  of  his  brethren  for  their 
learning  and  station.  The  one  entered  upon  it,  but  was  soon  wearied  and 
laid  it  aside  in  disgust :  the  other  returned  it  upon  the  baokseilor's  hands 


MR.  GIBBON  ENGAGES  IN  POLITICS. 


211 


that,  in  the  period  between  death  and  the  resurrection, 
human  souls  exist  without  a  body,  endowed  with  internal 
consciousness,  but  destitute  of  all  active  or  passive  con- 
nexion with  the  external  world.  "  Secundum  communem 
dictionem  sacrse  scripturae,  mors  dicitur  somnus,  et  mori- 
entes  dicuntur  abdormire,  quod  innuere  mihi  videtur 
statum  mortis  esse  statum  quietis,  silentii,  et  aspyatfsas." 
(De  Statu  Mortuorum,  ch.  v.  p.  98.) 

and  it  is  said  that  Mr.  G.  himself  happened  unluckily  to  be  in  the  shop  at 
the  same  time.) 

Does  the  Bishop  comply 'with  his  own  precept  in  the  next  page  1  (p. 
175.)  "  Old  age  should  lenify,  should  soften  men's  manners,  and  make 
them  more  mild  and  gentle;  but  often  has  the  contrary  effect,  hardens 
their  hearts,  and  makes  them  more  sour  and  crabbed." — He  is  speaking  of 
Dr.  .Tohnson. 

Have  I  ever  insinuated  that  preferment-hunting  is  the  great  occupation  of 
an  ecclesiastical  life'!  (Memoirs  passim)  that  a  minister's  influence  and  a 
bishop's  patronage  are  sometimes  pledged  eleven  deep  1  (p.  151)  that  a 
prebendary  considers  the  audit- week  as  the  better  part  of  the  year  1  (p. 
127)  or  that  the  most  eminent  of  priests,  the  pope  himself,  would  change 
their  religion  if  anything  better  could  be  offered  them?  (p.  56).  Such 
things  are  more  than  insinuated  in  the  Bishop's  Life,  which  afforded  some 
scandal  to  the  church,  and  some  diversion  to  the  profane  laity. 


CHAR  XXII. 


THE  AUTHOR  PROCEEDS  WITH  HIS  HISTORY. 

I  was  however  encouraged  by  some  domestic  and 
foreign  testimonies  of  applause ;  and  the  second  and  third 
volumes  insensibly  rose  in  sale  and  reputation  to  a  level 
with  the  first.  But  the  pubKc  is  seldom  wrong ;  and  I 
am  inclined  to  believe  that,  especially  in  the  beginning, 
they  are  more  prolix,  and  less  entertaining  than  the  first : 
my  efforts  had  not  been  relaxed  by  success,  and  I  had 
rather  deviated  into  the  opposite  fault  of  minute  and 
superfluous  diligence.  On  the  Continent,  my  name  and 
writings  were  slowly  diffused:  a  French  translation  of 
the  first  volume  had  disappointed  the  booksellers  of 
Paris ;  and  a  passage  in  the  third  was  construed  as  a 
personal  reflection  on  the  reigning  monarch.* 

Before  J  could  apply  for  a  seat  at  the  general  election 
the  list  was  already  full ;  but  Lord  North's  promise  was 
sincere,  his  recommendation  was  effectual,  and  I  was 

*  It  may  not  be  generally  known  that  Louis  the  Sixteenth  is  a  great 
reader,  and  a  reader  of  English  books.  Oa  perusing  a  passage  of  my  His- 
tory whioh  seems  to  compare  him  to  Arcadius  or  Honorius,  he  expressed 
his  resentment  to  the  Prince  of  B*****  from  whom  the  intelligence  was 
conveyed  to  mo.  I  shall  neither  disclaim  the  allusion,  nor  examine  the 
likeness;  but  the  situation  of  the  late  King  of  France  excludes  all  suspicion  of 
flattery  ;  and  I  am  ready  to  declare  that  the  concluding  obsorvations  of  my 
third  volume  were  written  before  his  accession  to  the  throne. 


THE  AUTHOR  PROCEEDS  WITH  HIS  HISTORY.  213 


soon  chosen  on  a  vacancy  for  the  borough  of  Lyinington, 
in  Hampshire.  In  the  first  session  of  the  new  parUament, 
administration  stood  their  ground  ;  their  final  overthrow 
was  reserved  for  the  second.  The  American  war  had 
once  been  the  favourite  of  the  country :  the  pride  of 
England  was  irritated  by  the  resistance  of  her  colonies, 
and  the  executive  power  was  driven  by  national  clamour 
into  the  most  vigorous  and  coercive  measures.  But  the 
length  of  a  fruitless  contest,  the  loss  of  armies,  the  accu- 
mulation of  debt  and  taxes,  and  the  hostile  confederacy 
of  France,  Spain,  and  Holland,  indisposed  the  public  to 
the  American  war,  and  the  persons  by  whom  it  was  con- 
ducted ;  the  representatives  of  the  people,  followed  at  a 
slow  distance,  the  changes  of  their  opinion ;  and  the 
ministers  who  refused  to  bend,  were  broken  by  the  tem- 
pest. As  soon  as  Lord  North  had  lost  or  was  about  to 
lose,  a  majority  in  the  House  of  Commons,  he  surren- 
dered his  office,  and  retired  to  a  private  station,  with  the 
tranquil  assurance  of  a  clear  conscience  and  a  cheerful 
temper :  the  old  fabric  was  dissolved,  and  the  posts  of 
government  were  occupied  by  the  victorious  and  veteran 
troops  of  opposition.  The  lords  of  trade  were  not  im- 
mediately dismissed,  but  the  board  itself  was  abolished 
by  Mr.  Bnrke's  bill,  which  decency  had  compelled  the 
patriots  to  revive  ;  and  I  was  stripped  of  a  convenient 
salary,  after  having  enjoyed  it  about  three  years. 

So  flexible  is  the  title  of  my  history,  that  the  final  aera 
might  be  fixed  at  my  own  choice  ;  and  I  long  hesitated 
whether  I  should  be  content  with  the  three  volumes,  the 
Fall  of  the  Western  Empire,  which  fulfilled  my  first  en- 
gagement with  the  public.    In  this  interval  of  suspense, 


214      THE  AUTHOR  PROCEEDS  WITH  HIS  HISTORY. 


nearly  a  twelvemonth,  I  returned,  by  a  natural  impulse, 
to  the  Greek  authors  of  antiquity :  I  read  with  new 
pleasure  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey,  the  histories  of  Hero- 
dotus, Thucydides,  and  Xenophon,  a  large  portion  of  the 
tragic  and  comic  theatre  of  Athens,  and  many  interesting 
dialogues  of  the  Socratic  school.  Yet  in  the  luxury  of 
freedom  I  began  to  wish  for  the  daily  task,  the  active 
pursuit,  which  gave  a  value  to  every  book,  and  an  object 
to  every  inquiry  :  the  preface  of  a  new  edition  announced 
my  design,  and  I  dropped  without  reluctance  from  the 
age  of  Plato  to  that  of  Justinian.  The  original  texts  of 
Procopius  and  Agathias  supplied  the  events  and  even  the 
characters  of  his  reign :  but  a  laborious  winter  was  de- 
voted to  the  Codes,  the  Pandects,  and  the  modern  inter- 
preters, before  I  presumed  to  form  an  abstract  of  the 
civil  law.  My  skill  was  improved  by  practice,  my  dili- 
gence, perhaps,  was  quickened  by  the  loss  of  office ;  and. 
excepting  the  last  chapter,  I  had  finished  the  fourth 
volume  before  I  sought  a  retreat  on  the  banks  of  the 
Leman  Lake. 

It  is  not  the  purpose  of  this  narrative  to  expatiate  on 
the  public  or  secret  history  of  the' times  :  the  schism  which 
followed  the  death  of  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham,  the 
appointment  of  the  Earl  of  Shelburne,  the  resignation 
of  Mr.  Fox,  and  his  famous  coalition  with  Lord  North. 
But  I  may  assert,  with  some  degree  of  assurance,  that  in 
their  political  conflict  those  great  antagonists  had  never 
felt  any  personal  animosity  to  each  other,  that  their  re- 
conciliation was  easy  and  sincere,  and  that  their  friend- 
ship has  never  been  clouded  by  the  shadow  of  suspicion 
or  jealousy.    The  most  violent  or  venal  of  their  rcspec- 


THE  AUTHOR  PROCEEDS  WITH  HIS  HISTORY.  215 


live  followers  embraced  this  fair  occasion  of  revolt,  but 
their  alliance  still  commanded  a  majority  in  the  House  of 
Commons ;  the  peace  was  censured,  Lord  Shelburne  re- 
signed, and  the  two  friends  knelt  on  the  same  cushion 
to  take  the  oath  of  secretary  of  state.  From  a  princi- 
ple of  gratitude  1  adhered  lo  the  coalition :  my  vote  was 
counted  in  the  day  of  battle,  but  I  was  overlooked  in  the 
division  of  the  spoil.  There  were  many  claimants  more 
deserving  and  importunate  than  myself ;  the  board  of 
trade  could  not  be  restored  ;  and  while  the  list  of  places 
was  curtailed,  the  number  of  candidates  was  doubled. 
An  easy  dismission  to  a  secure  seat  at  the  board  of  cus- 
toms or  excise  was  promised  on  the  first  vacancy ;  but 
the  chance  was  distant  and  doubtful ;  nor  could  I  solicit 
with  much  ardour  an  ignoble  servitude,  which  would  have 
robbed  me  of  the  most  valuable  of  my  studious  hours : 
at  the  same  time  the  tumult  of  London,  and  the  attend- 
ance on  Parliament,  were  grown  more  irksome;  and, 
without  some  additional  income,  I  could  not  long  or 
prudently  maintain  the  style  of  expense  to  which  I  was 
accustomed. 

From  my  early  acquaintance  with  Lausanne  I  had 
always  cherished  a  secret  wish,  that  the  school  of  my 
youth  might  become  the  retreat  of  my  declining  age.  A 
moderate  fortune  would  secure  the  blessings  of  ease, 
leisure,  and  independence  :  the  country,  the  people,  the 
manners,  tne  language,  were  congenial  to  my  taste  ;  and 
I  might  indulge  the  hope  of  passing  a  few  years  in  the 
domestic  society  of  a  friend.  After  travelling  with 
several  English,*  Mr.  Deyverdun  was  now  settled  at 

*  Sir  Richard  Worsley,  Lord  Chesterfield,  Broderick  Lord  Middletoi^ 
and  Mr.  Hume,  brother  to  Sir  Abraliam. 


216        THE  AUTHOR  PROCEEDS  WITH  HIS  HISTORY. 


home,  in  a  pleasant  habitation,  the  gift  of  his  deceased 
aunt :  we  had  long  been  separated,  we  had  long  been 
silent ;  yet  in  my  first  letter  I  exposed,  with  the 
most  perfect  confidence,  my  situation,  my  sentiments,  and 
my  designs.  His  immediate  answer  was  a  warm  and 
joyful  acceptance  :  the  picture  of  our  future  life  provoked 
my  impatience ;  and  the  terms  of  arrangement  were 
short  and  simple,  as  he  possessed  the  property,  and  I 
undertook  the  expense  of  our  common  house.*  Before 
I  could  break  my  English  chain,  it  was  incumbent  on  me 
to  struggle  with  the  feelings  of  my  heart,  the  indolence  of 
my  temper,  and  the  opinion  of  the  world,  which  unani- 
mously condemned  this  voluntary  banishment.  In  the 
disposal  of  my  effects,  the  library,  a  secret  deposit,  was 
alone  excepted :  as  my  postchaise  moved  over  West- 
minister-bridge I  bid  a  lonff  farewell  to  the  "  fumum  et 
opes  strepitumque  Romce."  My  journey  by  the  direct 
road  through  France  was  not  attended  with  any  acci- 
dent, and  I  arrived  at  Lausanne  nearly  twenty  years 
after  my  second  departure.  Within  less  than  three 
months  the  coalition  struck  on  some  hidden  rocks  ;  had  I 
remained  on  board,  I  should  have  perished  in  the  general 
shipwreck. f 

Since  my  establishment  at  Lausanne,  more  than  seven 
years  have  elapsed :  and  if  every  day  has  not  been 
equally  soft  and  serene,  not  a  day,  not  a  moment,  has 
occurred  in  which  I  have  repented  of  my  choice.  During 
my  absence,  a  long  portion  of  human  life,  many  changes 
had  happened :  my  elder  acquaintance  had  left  the  stage ; 
virgins  were  ripened  into  matrons,  and  children  were 

*  See  Letters,  No.  CL,  CLI,  CLII,  CHII,  CLIV,  CLVI,  CLIX. 
t  See  Letter  No.  CLXXVI. 


THE  AUTHOR  PROCLEDS  WITH  HIS  HISTORY.  217 


grown  to  the  age  of  manhood.    But  the  same  manners 
were  transmitted  from  one  generation  to  another:  my 
friend  alone  was  an  inestimable  treasure  ;  my  name  was 
not  totally  forgotten,  and  all  were  ambitious  to  welcome 
the  arrival  of  a  stranger  and  the  return  of  a  fellow- 
citizen.    The  first  winter  was  given  to  a  general  em- 
brace, without  any  nice  discrimination  of  persons  and 
characters.    After  a  more  regular  settlement,  a  more 
accurate  survey,  I  discovered  three  solid  and  permanent 
benefits  of  my  new  situation.    1.    My  personal  freedom 
had  been  somewhat  impaired  by  the  House  of  Commons 
and  the  board  of  trade ;  but  I  was  now  delivered  from 
the  chain  of  duty  and  dependence,  from  the  hopes  and 
fears  of  political  adventure  :  my  sober  mind  was  no 
longer  intoxicated  by  the  fumes  of  party,  and  I  rejoiced  in 
my  escape,  as  often  as  I  read  of  the  midnight  debates 
which  preceded  the  dissolution  of  parliament.    2.  My 
English  economy  had  been  that  of  a  solitary  bachelor, 
who  might  afford  some  occasional  dinners.    In  Switzer- 
land I  enjoyed  at  every  meal,  at  every  hour,  the  free  and 
pleasant  conversation  of  the  friend  of  my  youth ;  and 
my  daily  table  was  always  provided  for  the  reception  of 
one  or  two  extraordinary  guests.    Our  importance  in 
society  is  less  a  positive  than  a  relative  weight :  in  Lon- 
don I  was  lost  in  the  crowd  ;  I  ranked  with  the  first  fami- 
lies of  Lausanne,  and  my*  style  of  prudent  expense  ena- 
bled me  to  maintain  a  fair  balance  of  reciprocal  civilities. 
3.  Instead  of  a  small  house  between  a  street  and  a  stable- 
yard,  I  began  to  occupy  a  spacious  and  convenient  man- 
sion, connected  on  the  north  side  with  the  city,  and  open 
on  the  south  to  a  beautiful  and  boundless  horizon.  A 


218 


THE  AUTHOR  PROCEEDS  WITH  HIS  HISTORY. 


garden  of  four  acres  had  been  laid  out  by  the  taste  of  Mr. 
Dey  Verdun:  from  the  garden  a  rich  scenery  of  meadows 
and  vineyards  descends  to  the  Leman  Lake,  and  the 
prospect  far  beyond  the  lake  is  crowned  by  the  stupen- 
duous  mountains  of  Savoy.  My  books  and  my  acquaint- 
ance had  been  first  united  in  London ;  but  this  happy 
position  of  my  library  in  town  and  country  was  finally 
reserved  for  Lausanne.  Possessed  of  every  comfort  in 
this  triple  alliance,  J  could  not  be  tempted  to  change  my 
habitation  with  the  changes  of  the  seasons. 

My  friends  had  been  kindly  apprehensive  that  I  should 
not  be  able  to  exist  in  a  Swiss  town  at  the  foot  of  the 
Alps,  after  having  so  long  conversed  with  the  first  men 
of  the  first  cities  of  the  world.  Such  lofty  connexions 
may  attract  the  curious,  and  gratify  the  vain  ;  but  I  am 
too  modest,  or  too  proud,  to  rate  my  own  value  by  that 
of  my  associates  ;  and  whatsoever  may  be  the  fame  of 
learning  or  genius,  experience  has  shown  me  that  the 
cheaper  qualifications  of  politeness  and  good  sense  are  of 
more  useful  currency  in  the  commerce  of  life.  By  many, 
conversation  is  esteemed  as  a  theatre  or  a  school :  but, 
after  the  morning  has  been  occupied  by  the  labours  of 
the  library,  I  wish  to  unbend  rather  than  to  exercise  my 
mind  ;  and  in  the  interval  between  tea  and  supper  I  am 
far  from  disdaining  the  innocent  amusement  of  a  game  at 
cards.  Lausanne  is  peopled  by  a  numerous  gentry, 
whose  companionable  idleness  is  seldom  disturbed  by  the 
pursuits  of  avarice  or  ambition  :  the  women,  though  con- 
fined to  a  domestic  education,  are  endowed  for  the  most 
part  with  more  taste  and  knowledge  than  their  husbands 
and  brothers:  but  the  decent  freedom  of  both  se.\es  is 


THE  AUTHOR  PROCEEDS  WITH  HIS  HISTORY. 


219 


equally  remote  from  the  extremes  of  simplicity  and 
refinement.  I  shall  add  as  a  misfortune  rather  than  a 
merit,  that  the  situation  and  beauty  of  the  Pays  de  Vaudj 
the  long  habits  of  the  English,  the  medical  reputation  of 
Dr.  Tissot,  and  the  fashion  of  viewing  the  mountains  and 
glaciers,  have  opened  us  on  all  sides  to  the  incursions  of 
foreigners.  The  visits  of  Mr.  and  Madame  Necker,  of 
Prince  Henry  of  Prussia,  and  of  Mr.  Fox,  may  form 
some  pleasing  exceptions  ;  but,  in  general,  Lausanne  has 
appeared  most  agreeable  in  my  eyes,  when  we  have  been 
abandoned  to  our  own  society.  I  had  frequently  seen 
Mr.  Necker,  in  the  summer  of  1784,  at  a  country  house 
near  Lausanne,  where  he  composed  his  Treatise  on  the 
Administration  of  the  Finances.  I  have  since,  in  Octo- 
ber, 1790,  visited  him  in  his  present  residence,  the  castle 
and  barony  of  Copet,  near  Geneva.  Of  the  merits  and 
measures  of  that  statesman  various  opinions  may  be 
entertained ;  but  all  impartial  men  must  agree  in  their 
esteem  of  his  integrity  and  patriotism. 

In  the  month  of  August,  1784,  Prince  Henry  of  Prussia, 
in  his  way  to  Paris,  passed  three  days  at  Lausanne. 
His  military  conduct  has  been  praised  by  professional 
men ;  his  character  has  been  vilified  by  the  wit  and 
malice  of  a  dasmon  ;*  but  I  was  flattered  by  his  affa- 
bility, and  entertained  by  his  conversation. 

In  his  tour  of  Switzerland  (September,  1788)  Mr.  Fox 
gave  me  two  days  of  free  and  private  society.-]-  He 
seemed  to  feel,  and  even  to  envy,  the  happiness  of  my 
situation,  while  I  admired  the  powers  of  a  superior  man 

*  Memoire  Secret  de  la  Cour  de  Berlin. 

t  See  Letter  in  the  Goutiuuatiou,  October  1,  1788 


220 


THE  AUTHOR  PROCEEDS  WITH  HIS  HISTORY. 


as  they  are  blended  in  his  attractive  character  with  the 
softness  and  simplicity  of  a  child.  Perhaps  no  human 
being  was  ever  more  perfectly  exempt  from  the  taint  of 
malevolence,  vanity,  or  falsehood. 

My  transmigration  from  London  to  Lausanne  could 
not  be  effected  without  interrupting  the  course  of  my 
historical  labours.  The  hurry  of  my  departure,  the  joy 
of  my  arrival,  the  delay  of  my  tools,  suspended  their  pro- 
gress ;  and  a  full  twelvemonth  was  lost  before  I  could 
resume  the  thread  of  regular  and  daily  industry.  A 
number  of  books  most  requisite  and  least  common  had 
been  previously  selected ;  the  academical  library  of 
Lausanne,  which  1  could  use  as  my  own,  contained  at 
least  the  fathers  and  councils ;  and  I  have  derived  some 
occasional  succour  from  the  public  collections  of  Berne 
and  Geneva.  The  fourth  volume  was  soon  terminated, 
by  an  abstract  of  the  controversies  of  the  incarnation, 
which  the  learned  Dr.  Prideaux  was  apprehensive  of 
exposing  to  profane  eyes.  It  had  been  the  original 
design  of  the  learned  Dean  Prideaux  to  write  the  history 
of  the  ruin  of  the  Eastern  Church.  In  this  work  it  would 
have  been  necessary,  not  only  to  unravel  all  those  con- 
troversies which  the  Christians  made  about  the  hyposta- 
tical  union,  but  also  to  unfold  all  the  niceties  and  subtle 
notions  which  each  sect  entertained  concerning  it.  The 
pious  historian  was  apprehensive  of  exposing  that  incom- 
prehensible mystery  to  the  cavils  and  objections  of  unbe- 
lievers ;  and  he  durst  not,  "  seeing  the  nature  of  this  book, 
venture  it  abroad  in  so  wanton  and  lewd  an  age."* 

In  the  fifth  and  sixth  volumes  the  revolutions  of  the 
*  See  preface  to  the  Life  of  Mahomet,  p.  10,  11. 


THE  AUTHOR  PROCEEDS  WITH  HIS  HISTORY.  221 


empire  and  the  world  are  "most  rapid,  various,  and  in- 
structive ;  and  the  Greek  or  Roman  historians  are 
checked  by  the  hostile  narratives  of  the  barbarians  of 
the  East  Sd  the  West.* 

It  was  not  till  after  many  designs,  and  many  trials,  that  I 
preferred,  as  I  still  prefer,  the  method  of  grouping  my  pic- 
ture by  nations  ;  and  the  seeming  neglect  of  chronological 
order  is  surely  compensated  by  the  superior  merits  of 
interest  and  perspicuity.  The  style  of  the  first  volume 
is,  in  my  opinion,  somewhat  crude  and  elaborate  ;  in  the 
second  and  third  it  is  ripened  into  ease,  correctness  and 
numbers ;  but  in  the  three  last  I  may  have  been  seduced 
by  the  facility  of  my  pen,  and  the  constant  habit  of 
speaking  one  language  and  writing  another  may  have 
infused  some  mixture  of  Gallic  idioms.  Happily  for  my 
eyes,  I  have  always  closed  my  studies  with  the  day,  and 
commonly  with  the  morning ;  and  a  long,  but  tempe- 
rate, labour  has  been  accomplished,  without  fatiguing 
either  the  mind  or  body ;  but  when  I  computed  the  re- 
mainder of  my  time  and  my  task,  it  was  appaz'ent 
that,  according  to  tj^^season  of  publication,  the  delay  of 
a  month  would  be  productive  of  that  of  a  year.  I  was 
now  straining  for  the  goal,  and  in  the  last  winter,  many 
evenings  were  borrowed  from  the  social  pleasures  of 
Lausanne.  I  could  now  wish  that  a  pause,  an  interval, 
had  been  allowed  for  a  serious  revisal. 

I  have  presumed  to  mark  the  moment  of  conception : 

*  I  have  followed  the  judicious  precept  of  the  Able  de  Maybly,  (Ma- 
niere  d'ecrire  rHistoire,  p.  1 10)  v>ho  advises  the  historian  not  to  dwell  too 
minutely  on  the  decay  of  the  eastern  empire ;  but  to  consider  the  bar- 
barian conquerors  as  a  more  worthy  subject  of  his  narrative.  "  Fas  est  et 
ab  hoste  doceri." 


i22 


THE  AUTHOR  PROCEEDS  WITH  HIS  HISTORY. 


I  shall  now  commemorate  the  hour  of  my  final  deliver- 
ance. It  was  on  the  day,  or  rather,  night  of  the  27th  of 
June,  1787,  between  the  hours  of  eleven  and  twelve,  that 
I  wrote  the  last  lines  of  the  last  page,  in  a  summer-house 
in  my  garden.  After  laying  down  my  pen,  I  took  several 
turns  in  a  berceau,  or  covered  walk  of  acacias,  which 
commands  a  prospect  of  the  country,  the  Lake,  and  the 
mountains.  The  air  was  temperate,  the  sky  was  serene,  the 
silver  orb  of  the  moon  was  reflected  from  the  waters,  and 
all  nature  was  silent.  I  will  not  dissemble  the  first  emo- 
tions of  joy  on  the  recovery  of  my  freedom,  and,  perhaps, 
the  establishment  of  my  fiime.  But  my  pride  was  soon 
humbled,  and  a  sober  melancholy  was  spread  over  my 
mind,  by  the  idea  that  I  had  taken  an  everlasting  leave 
of  an  old  and  agreeable  companion,  and  that  whatsoever 
might  be  the  future  date  of  my  history,  the  life  of  the 
historian  must  be  short  and  precarious.  I  will  add  two 
facts  which  have  seldom  occurred  in  the  composition  of 
six,  or  even  five  quartos.  1.  My  first  rough  manuscript, 
without  any  intermediate  copy,  has  been  sent  to  the 
press.  2.  Not  a  sheet  has  been^pen.by  any  human 
eyes,  excepting  those  of  the  author  and  the  printer:  the 
faults  and  the  merits  are  exclusively  my  own.* 

*  Extract  from  Mr.  Gibbon^s  Common-place  Book. 

The  fourth  volume  of  the  History 
of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the 
Roman  Empire 

The  fifth  volume  .  .  .  begun  July,  1784— ended  May  Ist,  1786. 
The  sixth  volume  ,       .       .       begun  May  18th,  178C — ended  June 

27th,  1787. 

These  three  volumes  were  sent  to  press  Angust  15tli,  1787,  and  the 
whole  impression  was  concluded  April  following. 


'begun  March  1st,  1782 — ended  June, 
I  1784. 


THE  AUTHOR  PROCEEDS  WITH  HIS  HISTORY.  223 


I  cannot  help  recollecting  a  much  more  extraordinary 
fact,  which  is  affirmed  of  himself  by  Retif  de  la  Bre- 
tormo,  a  voluminous  and  original  writer  of  French 
novels.  He  laboured,  and  may  still  labour,  in  the  hum- 
ble office  of  corrector  to  a  printing-house  ;  but  this  office 
enabled  him  to  transport  an  entire  volume  from  his  mind 
to  the  press  ;  and  his  work  was  given  to  the  public  with- 
out ever  having  been  written  with  a  pen. 


CHAP.  XXIII. 


THE  AUTHOR  VISITS  SHEFFIELD. 

After  a  quiet  residence  of  four  years,  during  which  I 
had  never  moved  ten  miles  from  Lausanne,  it  was  not 
without  some  reluctance  and  terror  that  I  undertook,  in 
a  journey  of  two  hundred  leagues,  to  cross  the  mountains 
and  the  sea.  Yet  this  formidable  adventure  was  achieved 
without  danger  or  fatigue ;  and  at  the  end  of  a  fort- 
night I  found  myself  in  Lord  Sheffield's  house  and  library 
safe,  happy,  and  at  home.  The  character  of  my  friend, 
Mr.  Holroyd,  had  recommended  him  to  a  seat  in  parlia- 
ment for  Coventry,  the  command  of  a  regiment  of  light 
dragoons,  and  an  Irish  peerage.  The  sense  and  spirit  of 
his  political  writings  have  decided  the  public  opinion  on 
the  great  questions  of  our  commercial  interest  with 
America  and  Ireland.* 

The  sale  of  his  Observations  on  the  American  States 
was  diffusive,  their  effect  beneficial ;  the  Navigation  Act, 
the  palladium  of  Britain,  was  defended,  and  perhaps 
saved,  by  his  pen ;  and  he  proves,  by  the  weight  of  fact 
and  argument,  that  the  mother  country  may  survive  and 
flourish  after  the  loss  of  America.    My  friend  has  never 

*  Obsei-vations  on  the  Commerce  of  the  American  States,  by  John  Lord 
Sbeffiold.  Gill  edition,  London,  IZSI,  in  octavo. 


THE  AUTHOR  VISITS  SHEFFIELD. 


225 


cultivated  the  arts  of  composition ;  but  his  materials 
are  copious  and  correct,  and  he  leaves  on  his  paper  the 
clear  impression  of  an  active  and  vigorous  mind.  His 
Observations  on  the  Trade,  Manufactures,  and  present 
State  of  Ireland,  were  intended  to  guide  the  industry,  to 
correct  the  prejudices,  and  to  assuage  the  passions  of  a 
country  which  seemed  to  forget  that  she  could  be  free 
and  prosperous  only  by  a  friendly  connexion  with  Great 
Britain.  The  concluding  observations  are  written  with 
so  much  ease  and  spirit,  that  they  may  be  read  by  those 
who  are  the  least  interested  in  the  subject. 

He  fell,  in  1784,  with  the  unpopular  coalition  ;  but  his 
merit  has  been  acknowledged  at  the  last  general  election, 
1790,  by  the  honourable  invitation  and  free  choice  of  the 
city  of  Bristol.  During  the  whole  time  of  my  residence 
in  England  I  was  entertained  at  Sheffield-place  and  in 
Downing-street  by  his  hospitable  kindness ;  and  the 
most  pleasant  period  was  that  which  I  passed  in  the 
domestic  society  of  the  family.  In  the  larger  circle  of 
the  metropolis  I  observed  the  country  and  the  inhabitants, 
with  the  knowledge,  and  without  the  prejudices,  of  an 
Englishman ;  but  I  rejoiced  in  the  apparent  increase  of 
wealth  and  prosperity,  which  might  be  fairly  divided 
between  the  spirit  of  the  nation  and  the  wisdom  of  the 
minister.  All  party  resentment  was  now  lost  in  oblivion : 
since  I  was  no  man's  rival,  no  man  was  my  enemy.  I 
felt  the  dignity  of  independence,  and  as  I  asked  no  more, 
I  was  satisfied  with  the  general  civilities  of  the  world. 
The  house  in  London  which  I  frequented  with  most 
pleasure  and  assiduity  was  that  of  Lord  North.  After 
the  loss  of  power  and  of  sight,  he  was  still  happy  in 


226 


THE  AUTHOR  VISITS  SHEFFIELD. 


himself  and  his  friends ;  and  my  public  tribute  of  grati- 
tude and  esteem  could  no  longer  be  suspected  of  any 
inteiested  motive.  Before  my  departure  from  England, 
I  was  present  at  the  august  spectacle  of  Mr.  Hastings's 
trial  in  Westminster  Hall.  It  is  not  my  province  to  ab- 
solve or  condemn  the  governor  of  India ;  but  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan's eloquence  demanded  my  applause  ;  nor  could  I 
hear  without  emotion  the  personal  compliment  which  he 
paid  me  in  the  presence  of  the  British  nation.* 

From  this  display  of  genius,  which  blazed  four  suc- 
cessive days,  I  shall  stoop  to  a  very  mechanical  circum- 
stance. As  I  was  waiting  in  the  manager's  box,  I  had 
the  curiosity  to  inquire  of  the  short-hand  writer,  how 
many  words  a  ready  and  rapid  orator  might  pronounce 
in  an  hour  ?  From  7000  to  7500  was  his  answer.  The 
medium  of  7200  will  afford  120  words  in  a  minute,  and 
two  words  in  each  second.  But  this  computation  will 
only  apply  to  the  English  language. 


*  He  said  the  facts  that  made  up  tho  volume  of  narrative  were  unparal- 
leled in  atrociousness,  and  that  nothing  equal  in  criminality  was  to  be  traced, 
eitlieriii  ancient  or  modern  history,  in  the  correct  periods  of  Tacitus  or  the 
luminous  page  of  Gibbon.  —Morning  Chrouiclo,  June  14,  1708. 


I 

CHAP.  XXIV. 


MR.  GIBBON  PUBLISHES  THE  REMAINDER  OF  HiS 
HISTORY. 

As  the  publication  of  my  three  last  volumes  was  the 
principal  object,  so  it  was  the  first  care  of  my  English 
journey.  The  previous  arrangements  with  the  book- 
seller and  the  printer  were  settled  in  my  passage  through 
London,  and  the  proofs,  which  I  returned  more  correct, 
were  transmitted  eveiy  post  from  the  press  to  Sheffield- 
place.  The  length  of  the  operation,  and  the  leisure  of 
the  country,  allowed  some  time  to  review  my  manuscript. 
Several  rare  and  useful  books,  the  Assises  de  Jerusalem, 
Ramusius  de  Bello  C.  7"°,  the  Greek  acts  of  the  synod 
of  Florence,  the  Statuta  Urbis  Romse,  &c.  were  pro- 
cured, and  introduced  in  their  proper  places  the  supple- 
ments which  they  afforded.  The  impression  of  the 
fourth  volume  had  consumed  three  months.  Our  com- 
mon interest  required  that  we  should  move  with  a 
quicker  pace  ;  and  Mr.  Strahan  fulfilled  his  engagement, 
which  few  printers  could  sustain,  of  delivering  every 
week  three  thousand  copies  of  nine  sheets.  The  day  of 
publication  was,  however,  delayed,  that  it  might  coincide 
with  the  fifty-first  anniversary  of  my  own  birthday ;  the 
double  festival  was  celebrated  by  a  cheerful  literary 
dinner  at  Mr.  Cadell's  house ;  and  I  seemed  to  blush 


528 


MR.  GIBBON  rilBLISilF.S 


while  they  read  an  elegant  compliment  from  Mr.  Hay- 
ley,*  whose  poetical  talents  had  more  than  once  been 

*  Occasional  Stanzas,  by  Mr.  Hayley,  read  afler  the  Dinner  at  Mr. 
CadeWs,  May  S,  17S8 ;  being  the  day  of  the  publication  of  the  three 
last  volumes  of  Mr.  Gibbon's  History,  and  his  Birthday. 
Genii  of  England  and  of  Rome, 
In  mutual  triumph  here  assume 

The  honours  each  may  claim  1 
This  social  scene  with  smiles  survey, 
And  consecrate  the  festive  day 
To  Friendship  and  to  Fame  ! 

Enough,  by  Desolation's  tide, 
With  anguish  and  indignant  pride. 

Has  Rome  bevvail'd  her  fate  ; 
And  mourn'd  that  time  in  Havoc's  hour, 
Defaced  each  monument  of  povver 

To  speak  her  truly  great ; 

O'er  maim'd  Polibius,  just  and  sage, 
O'er  Livy's  mutilated  page. 

How  deep  was  her  regret ! 
Touch'd  by  this  queen,  in  ruin  grand, 
See !  Glory,  by  an  English  hand, 
Now  pays  a  mighty  debt. 

Lo !  sacred  to  the  Roman  name, 

And  raised  like  Rome's  immortal  fame, 

By  genius  and  by  toil, 
The  splendid  work  is  crown'd  to-day, 
On  which  Oblivion  ne'er  shall  prey. 

Nor  Envy  make  her  spoil ! 

England,  exult!  and  view  not  now 
With  jealous  glance  oach  nation's  brow, 

Where  History's  palm  has  spread  ! 
In  every  path  of  liberal  art. 
Thy  sons  to  prime  distinction  start, 

And  no  superior  dread. 


THE  REMAINDER  OF  HIS  HISTORY. 


229 


employed  in  the  praise  of  his  friend.  Before  Mr.  Hay- 
ley  inscribed  with  my  name  his  epistles  on  history,  1  was 
not  acquainted  with  that  amiable  man  and  elegant  poet. 
He  afterwards  thanked  me  in  verse  for  my  second  and 
third  volumes  ;*  and  in  the  summer  of  1781,  the  Roman 

Science  for  thee  a  Newton  raised; 
For  thy  renown  a  Shakspeare  blazed, 

Lord  of  tlie  drama's  sphei'e  ! 
In  different  fields  to  equal  praise 
See  History  now  thy  Gibbon  raise 

To  shine  without  a  peer  ! 

Eager  to  honour  living  worth, 
And  bless  to  day  the  double  birth 

That  prondest  joy  may  claim, 
Let  artless  Truth  this  homage  pay. 
And  consecrate  the  festive  day 

To  Friendship  and  to  Fame  1 

*  Sonnet  to  Edward  Gibbon,  Esq.  on  the  publication  of  his  second  and 
third  Volumes,  1781. 

With  proud  delight  the  imperial  founder  gazed 

On  the  new  beauty  of  the  second  Rome, 
When  on  his  eager  eye  rich  temples  blazed, 

And  his  fair  city  rose  in  youthful  bloom : 
A  pride  more  noble  may  thy  heart  assume, 

O  Gibbon  !  gazing  on  thy  growing  work, 
In  which,  constructed  for  a  happier  doom. 

No  hasty  marks  of  vain  ambition  lurk  : 
Thou  may'st  deride  both  Time's  destructivo  sway, 

And  baser  Envy's  beauty-mangling  dirk  ; 
Thy  georgeous  fabric,  plann'd  with  wise  delay, 

Shall  baffle  foes  more  savage  than  the  Turk  ; 
As  ages  multiply,  its  fame  shall  i-ise, 
And  earth  must  perish  ere  its  splendour  dies. 


230 


MR.  GIBBON  PUBLISHES 


Eagle*  (a  proud  title)  accepted  the  invitation  of  the 
English  Sparrow,  who  chirped  in  the  groves  of  Eartham, 

•  A  Card  of  Invitation  to  Mr.  Gibbon  at  Brigkthelmstone,  1781. 

An  English  sparrow,  pert  and  free, 
Who  chirps  beneath  his  native  tree, 
Hearing  the  Roman  eagle 's  near, 
And  feeling  more  respect  than  fear, 
Thus,  with  united  love  and  awe, 
Invites  him  to  his  shed  of  straw. 

Though  he  is  but  a  twittering  sparrow, 
The  field  he  hops  in  rather  narrow. 
When  nobler  plumes  attract  his  view 
He  ever  pays  them  homage  due. 
He  looks  with  reverential  wonder 
On  him,  whose  talons  bear  the  thunder; 
Nor  could  the  jackdaws  e'er  inveigle 
His  voice  to  vilify  the  eagle, 
Though  issuiug  from  the  holy  towers, 
In  which  they  build  their  warmest  bowers, 
Their  sovereign's  haunt  they  slyly  search, 
In  hopes  to  catch  him  on  his  perch, 
(For  Pindar  says,  beside  his  god 
The  thunder-bearing  bird  will  nod,) 
Then,  peeping  round  his  still  retreat. 
They  pick  from  underneath  his  feet 
Some  molted  feather  he  lets  fall. 
And  swear  he  cannot  fly  at  all. 

Lord  of  the  sky  !  whose  pounce  can  tear 
These  croakers  that  infest  the  air, 
Tnist  him — the  sparrow  loves  to  sing 
Tlie  praise  of  thy  imperial  wing  ! 
He  thinks  thou  'It  deem  him,  on  his  word, 
An  honest,  though  familiar  bird ; 
And  hopes  thou  soon  wilt  condescend 
To  look  upon  thy  little  friend ; 
That  lie  may  boast  around  his  grove 
A  visit  from  the  bird  of  Jove. 


THE  REMAINDER  OF  HIS  HISTORY. 


231 


near  Chichester,  As  most  of  the  former  purchasers 
were  naturally  desirous  of  completing  their  sets,  the  sale 
of  the  quarto  edition  was  quick  and  easy  ;  and  an  octavo 
size  was  printed,  to  satisfy  at  a  cheaper  rate  the  public 
demand.  The  conclusion  of  my  work  was  generally 
read,  and  variously  judged.  The  style  has  been  exposed 
to  much  academical  criticism ;  a  religious  clamour  was 
revived,  and  the  reproach  of  indecency  has  been  loudly 
echoed  by  the  rigid  censors  of  morals.  J  never  could 
understand  the  clamour  that  has  been  raised  against  the 
indecency  of  my  three  last  volumes.  1.  An  equal  degree 
of  freedom  in  the  former  part,  especially  in  the  first 
volume,  had  passed  without  reproach.  2.  I  am  justified 
in  painting  the  manners  of  the  times  ;  the  vices  of  Theo- 
dora form  an  essential  feature  in  the  reign  and  character 
of  Justinian.  3.  My  English  text  is  chaste,  and  all  licen- 
tious passages  are  left  in  the  obscurity  of  a  learned  lan- 
guage. "  Le  Latin  dans  ses  mots  brave  I'honnfetete," 
says  the  correct  Boileau,  in  a  country  and  jdio-m  more 
scrupulous  than  our  own.  Yet,  upon  the  whole,  the 
History  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  seems  to  have  struck  root, 
both  at  home  and  abroad,  and  may,  perhaps,  a  hundred 
years  hence  still  continue  to  be  abused.  I  am  less 
flattered  by  Mr.  Person's  high  encomium  on  the  style  and 
spirit  of  my  history,  than  I  am  satisfied  with  his  honour- 
able testimony  to  my  attention,  diligence,  and  accuracy ; 
those  humble  virtues,  which  religious  zeal  had  most  auda- 
ciously denied.  The  sweetness  of  his  praise  is  tempered 
by  a  reasonable  mixture  of  acid.*  As  the  book  may  not 
be  common  in  England,  I  shall  transcribe  my  own  cha- 

*  See  his  preface,  page  28,  32. 


232 


MR.  GIBBON  PUBLISHES 


racter  from  the  Bibliotheca  Hiatorica  of  Meuselius,*  a 
learned  and  laborious  German.  "  Summis  asvi  nostri 
historicis  Gibbonus  sine  dubio  adnumerandus  est.  Inter 
capitolii  ruinas  stans  primum  hujus  operis  scribendi  con- 
silium cepit.  Florentissimos  vitaj  annos  colligendo  et 
laborando  eidem  impendit.  Enatum  inde  monumentum 
sere  perennius,  licet  passim  appareant  sinistre  dicta, 
minus  perfecta,  veritati  non  satis  consentanea.  Videmus 
quidem  ubique  fere  studium  scrutandi  veritatemque  scri- 
bendi maximum :  tamen  sine  Tillemontio  duce  ubi  scilicet 
hujus  historia  finitur  ssepius  noster  titubat  atque  haljuci- 
natur.  Quod  vel  maxime  fit,  ubi  de  rebus  ecclcsiasticis 
vel  de  juris  prudentia  Romana  (torn,  iv.)  tradit,  et  in  aliis 
locis.  Attamen  ntevi  hujus  generis  haud  impediunt  quo 
minus  operis  summam  et  ouovoixm  prteclare  dispositam, 
delectum  rerum  sapientissimum,  argutum  quoquc  inter- 
dum,  dictionemque  seu  stylum  historico  a3que  ac  philoso- 
pho  dignissimum,  et  vix  a  quoque  alio  Anglo,  Humio  ac 
Robertsono  haud  exceptis  (prtereptum  ?)  vehementur 
laudemus,  atque  saeculo  nostro  de  hujusmodi  historia  gra- 

tulemur  Gibbonus  adversaries  cum  in  turn  extra 

patriam  nactus  est,  quia  propagationem  religionis  Chris- 
tianas, non,  ut  vulgo,  fieri  solet,  aut  more  iheologorum, 
sed  ut  historicum  et  philosophum  decet,  exposuerat." 

The  French,  Italian,  and  German  translations  have 
been  executed  with  various  success ;  but,  instead  of 
patronizing,  I  should  willingly  suppress  such  imperfect 
copies,  which  injure  the  character,  while  they  propagate 
the  name  of  the  author.  The  first  volume  had  been 
feebly,  though  faithfully,  translated  into  French  by  M.  Le 

"  Vol.  iv.  part  1,  page  342,  844. 


THE  REMAINDER  OF  HIS  HISTORY. 


233 


Clerc  de  Septchenes,  a  young  gentleman  of  a  studious 
character  and  liberal  fortune.  After  his  decease  the 
work  was  continued  by  two  manufacturers  of  Paris,  MM. 
Desmuniers  and  Cantwell :  but  the  former  is  now  an 
active  member  in  the  national  assembly,  and  the  under- 
taking languishes  in  the  hands  of  his  associate.  The 
superior  merit  of  the  interpreter,  or  his  language,  inclines 
me  to  prefer  the  Italian  version :  but  I  wish  that  it  were 
in  my  power  to  read  the  German,  which  is  praised  by 
the  best  judges.  The  Irish  pirates  are  at  once  my  friends 
and  my  enemies.  But  I  cannot  be  displeased  with  the 
two  numerous  and  correct  impressions  which  have  been 
published,  for  the  use  of  the  Continent,  at  Basle  in  Swit- 
zerland.* The  conquests  of  our  language  and  literature 
are  not  confined  to  Europe  alone,  and  a  writer  who  suc- 
ceeds in  London,  is  speedily  read  on  the  banks  of  the  Dela- 
ware and  the  Ganges. 

In  the  preface  of  the  fourth  volume,  while  I  gloried  in 
the  name  of  an  Englishman,  I  announced  my  approach- 
ing return  to  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Lake  of  Lausanne. 
This  last  trial  confirmed  my  assurance  that  I  had  wisely 
chosen  for  my  own  happiness  ;  nor  did  I  once,  in  a  year's 
visit,  entertain  a  wish  of  settling  in  my  native  country. 
Britain  is  the  fre<3  and  fortunate  island ;  but  where  is  the 
spot  in  which  I  could  unite  the  comforts  and  beauties  of 
my  establishment  at  Lausanne  ?  The  tumult  of  London 
astonished  my  eyes  and  ears  ;  the  amusements  of  public 

Of  their  fourteen  octavo  volumes,  the  two  last  include  the  whole  body 
of  the  notes.  The  public  importunity  had  forced  mc  to  remove  them  from  the 
end  of  the  volume  to  the  bottom  of  the  page;  but  I  have  often  repented  of 
my  compliance. 


234 


ME.  GIBBON  CONCLUDES  HIS  HISTORY. 


places  were  no  longer  adequate  to  the  trouble  ;  the 
clubs  and  assemblies  were  filled  with  new  faces  and 
young  men :  and  our  best  society,  our  long  and  late 
dinners,  would  soon  have  been  prejudicial  to  my  health. 
Without  any  share  in  the  political  wheel,  I  must  be  idle 
and  insignificant:  yet  the  most  splendid  temptations 
would  not  have  enticed  me  to  engage  a  second  time  in 
the  servitude  of  parliament  or  office.  At  Tunbridge, 
some  weeks  after  the  publication  of  my  History,  J  re- 
luctantl}'  quitted  Lord  and  Lady  Sheffield ;  and,  with  a 
young  Swiss  friend,*  whom  I  had  introduced  to  the 
English  world,  I  pursued  the  road  of  Dover  and  Lau- 
sanne. My  habitation  was  embellished  in  my  absence, 
and  the  last  division  of  books,  which  followed  my  steps, 
increased  my  chosen  library  to  the  number  of  between 
six  and  seven  thousand  volumes.  My  seragfio  was 
ample,  my  choice  was  free,  my  appetite  was  keen.  After 
a  full  repast  on  Homer  and  Aristophanes,  I  involved 
myself  in  the  philosophic  maze  of  the  writings  of  Plato, 
of  which  the  dramatic  is,  perhaps,  more  interesting  than 
the  argumentative  part :  but  I  stepped  aside  into  every 
path  of  inquiry  which  reading  or  reflection  accidentally 
opened. 


Mr.  Wilhelm  de  Severy. 


CHAP.  XXV. 

DEATH  OF  MR.  DEYVERDUN. 

Alas  !  the  joy  of  my  return,  and  my  studious  ardour, 
were  soon  damped  by  the  melancholy  state  of  my  friend 
Mr.  Deyverdun.  His  health  and  spirits  had  long  suffered 
a  gradual  decline,  a  succession  of  apoplectic  fits  an- 
nounced his  dissolution:  and  before  he  expired,  those 
who  loved  him  could  not  wish  for  the  continuance  of  his 
life.  The  voice  of  reason  might  congratulate  his  deliver- 
ance,  but  the  feelings  of  nature  and  friendship  could  be  ^ 
subdued  only  by  time :  his  amiable  character  was  still 
alive  in  my  remembrance  ;  each  room,  each  walk,  was 
imprinted  vrith  our  common  footsteps ;  and  I  should 
blush  at  my  own  philosophy,  if  a  long  interval  of  study 
had  not  preceded  and  followed  the  death  of  my  friend. 
By  his  last  will  he  left  to  me  the  option  of  purchasing  his 
house  and  garden,  or  of  possessing  them  during  my  life, 
on  the  payment  of  a  stipulated  price,  or  of  an  easy  retri- 
bution to  his  kinsman  and  heir.  I  should  probably  have 
been  tempted  by  the  demon  of  property,  if  some  legal 
difficulties  had  not  been  started  against  my  title:  a  con- 
test would  have  been  vexatious,  doubtful,  and  invidious  ; 
and  the  heir  most  gratefully  subscribed  an  agreement, 
which  rendered  my  life  possession  more  perfect,  and  his 


DEATH  OF  MR.  DEYVERDUN. 


236 


future  condition  more  advantageous.  Yet  I  had  often 
revolved  the  judicious  lines  in  which  Pope  answers  the 
objections  of  his  long-sighted  friend : 

Pity  to  build  without  or  child  or  wife ; 
Why,  you'll  enjoy  it  only  all  your  life 
Well,  if  the  use  be  mine,  does  it  concern  one, 
Whether  the  name  belong  to  Pope  or  Vernon  7 

The  certainty  of  my  tenure  has  allowed  me  to  lay  out 
a  considerable  sum  in  improvements  and  alterations ; 
they  have  been  executed  with  skill  and  taste ;  and  few 
men  of  letters,  perhaps,  in  Europe,  are  so  desirably 
lodged  as  myself.  But  I  feel,  and  with  the  decline  of 
years  I  shall  more  painfully  feel  that  I  am  alone  in  para- 
dise. Among  the  circle  of  my  acquaintance  at  Lau- 
sanne, I  have  gradually  acquired  the  solid  and  tender 
friendship  of  a  respectable  family  :*  the  four  persons  of 
whom  it  is  composed  are  all  endowed  with  the  virtues 
best  adapted  to  their  age  and  situation ;  and  I  am  en- 
couraged to  love  the  parents  as  a  brother,  and  the  chil- 
dren as  a  father.  Every  day  we  seek  and  find  the  op- 
portunities of  meeting:  yet  even  this  valuable  connexion 
cannot  supply  the  loss  of  domestic  society. 


The  family  of  De  Severy. 


CHAP.  XXVI. 
OBSERVATIONS  ON  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Within  the  last  two  or  three  years  our  tranquilUty  has 
been  clouded  by  the  disorders  of  France :  many  families 
at  Lausanne  were  alarmed  and  affected  by  the  terrors  of 
an  impending  bankruptcy ;  but  the  revolution,  or  rather 
the  dissolution,  of  the  kingdom  has  been  heard  and  felt 
in  the  adjacent  lands. 

I  beg  leave  to  subscribe  my  assent  to  Mr.  Burke's 
creed  on  the  revolution  of  France.  I  admire  his  elo- 
quence, I  approve  his  politics,  I  udore  his  chivalry,  and  I 
can  almost  excuse  his  reverence  for  church  establish- 
ments. I  have  sometimes  thought  of  writing  a  dialogue 
of  the  dead,  in  which  Lucian,  Erasmus,  and  Voltaire 
should  mutually  acknowledge  the  danger  of  exposing  an 
old  superstition  to  the  contempt  of  the  blind  and  fanatic 
multitude. 

A  swarm  of  emigrants  of  both  sexes,  who  escaped 
from  the  public  ruin,  has  been  attracted  by  the  vicinity, 
the  manners,  and  the  language  of  Lausanne  ;  and  our 
narrow  habitations  in  town  and  country  are  now  occupied 
by  the  first  names  and  titles  of  the  departed  monarchy. 
These  noble  fugitives  are  entitled  to  our  pity :  they  may 
claim  our  esteem,  but  they  cannot,  in  their  present  state 
of  mind  and  fortune,  much  contribute  to  our  amusement. 


238      OBSERVATIONS  ON  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


Instead  of  looking  down  as  calm  and  idle  spectators  on 
the  theatre  of  Europe,  our  domestic  harmony  is  somewhat 
embittered  by  the  infusion  of  party  spirit :  our  ladies  and 
gentleman  assume  the  character  of  self-taught  politicians; 
and  the  sober  dictates  of  wisdom  and  experience  are 
silenced  by  the  clamour  of  the  triumphant  democrats. 
The  fanatic  missionaries  of  sedition  have  scattered  the 
seeds  of  discontent  in  our  cities  and  villages,  which  had 
flourished  above  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  without 
fearing  the  approach  of  war,  or  feeling  the  weight  of 
government.  Many  individuals  and  some  communities 
appear  to  be  infested  with  the  Gallic  frenzy,  the  wild  the- 
ories of  equal  and  boundless  freedom;  hut' I  trust  that 
the  body  of  the  people  will  be  faithful  to  their  sovereign 
and  to  themselves  :  and  I  am  satisfied  that  the  failure  or 
success  of  a  revolt  vv^ould  equally  terminate  in  the  ruin  ot 
the  country.  While  the  aristocracy  of  Berne  protects  the 
happiness,  it  is  superfluous  to  inquire  whether  it  be 
founded  in  the  rights,  of  man :  the  economy  of  the  state 
is  libci'ally  supplied  without  the  aid  of  taxes ;  and  the 
magistrates  must  reign  with  prudence  and  equity,  since 
they  are  unarmed  in  the  midst  of  an  armed  nation. 

The  revenue  of  Berne,  excepting  some  small  duties,  is 
derived  from  church  lands,  tithes,  feudal  riglits,  and 
interest  of  money.  The  republic  has  nearly  £500,000 
sterling  in  the  English  funds,  and  the  amount  of  their 
treasure  is  unknown  to  the  citizens  themselves.  For 
myself  (may  the  omen  be  averted)  I  can  only  declare, 
that  the  first  stroke  of  a  rebel  drum  would  be  the  signal 
of  my  immediate  departure. 

When  I  contemplate  the  common  lot  of  mortality,  I 


OBSERVATIONS  0N  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


23S 


must  acknowledge  that  I  have  drawn  a  high  prize  in  the 
lottery  of  hfe.  The  far  gjeater  part  of  the  globe  is 
overspread  with  barbarism  or  slavery :  in  the  civilized 
world,  the  most  numerous  class  is  condemned  to  igno- 
rance and  poverty ;  and  the  double  fortune  of  my  birth 
in  a  free  and  enlightened  country,  in  an  honourable  and 
wealthy  family,  is  the  lucky  chance  of  a^  unit  against 
millions.  The  general  probability  is  about  three  to  one, 
that  a  new-born  infant  will  not  live  to  complete  his  fiftieth 
year.*  I  have  now  passed  that  age,  and  may  fairly 
estimate  the  present  value  of  my  existence  in  the  three- 
fold division  of  mind,  body,  and  estate. 

1.  The  first  and  indispensable  requisite  of  happiness  is 
a  clear  conscience,  unsullied  by  the  reproach  or  remem- 
brance of  an  unworthy  action. 

 Hic  muras  aheneus  esto, 

Nil  conscire  sibi,  nulla  pallescere  culpa 

1  am  endowed  with  a  cheerful  temper,  a  moderate 
sensibility,  and  a  natural  disposition  to  repose  rather  than 
to  activity :  some  mischievous  appetites  and  habits  have 
perhaps  been  corrected  by  philosophy  or  time.  The 
love  of  study,  a  passion  which  derives  fresh  vigour  fro#i 
enjoyment,  supplies  each  day,  each  hour,  with  a  perpetual 
source  of  independent  and  rational  pleasure ;  and  I  am 
not  sensible  of  any  decay  of  the  mental  faculties.  The 
original  soil  has  been  highly  improved  bv  cultivation ; 

*  See  Buffon,  Supplement  a^'Histoire  naturelle,  torn.  vii.  page  158 — 164. 
Of  a  given  number  of  new-bora  infanfs,  one  half,  by  the  fault  of  nature  or 
man,  is  extinguished  before  the  age  of  puberty  and  reason. — A  melancholy 
(.alculatioji .' 


240       OBSERVATIONS  ON  THE  FEENCH  REVOLUTION. 


but  it  may  be  questioned,  whether  some  flowers  of  fancy, 
some  grateful  errors,  have  not  been  eradicated  with  the 
weeds  of  prejudice.  2.  Since  I  have  escaped  from  the 
long  perils  of  my  childhood,  the  serious  advice  of  a  phy- 
sician has  seldom  been  requisite.  "  The  madness  of 
superfluous  health"  I  have  never  known  ;  but  my  tender 
constitution  has  been  fortified  by  time,  and  the  inestimable 
gift  of  the  sound  and  peaceful  slumbers  of  infancy  may  be 
imputed  both  to  the  mind  and  body.  3.  I  have  already 
described  the  merits  of  my  society  and  situation  ;  but  these 
enjoyments  would  be  tasteless  or  bitter  if  their  possession 
were  not  assured  by  an  annual  and  adequate  supply. 
According  to  the  scale  of  Switzerland,  I  am  a  rich  man ; 
and  I  am  indeed  rich,  since  my  income  is  superior  to  my 
expense,  and  my  expense  is  equal  to  my  wishes.  My 
friend  Lord  Sheffield  has  kindly  relieved  me  from  the 
cares  to  which  my  taste  and  temper  are  most  adverse ; 
shall  I  add,  that  since  the  failure  of  my  first  wishes,  I 
have  never  entertained  any  serious  thoughts  of  a  matri- 
monial connexion? 

I  am  disgusted  with  the  aflectation  of  men  of  letters, 
who  complain  that  they  have  renounced  a  substajice  for 
^shadow;  and  that  their  fame  (which  sometimes  is  no 
insupportable  weight)  aflTords  a  poor  compensation  for 
envy,  censure,  and  persecution.*  My  own  experience 
at  least,  has  taught  me  a  very  diflferent  lesson :  twenty 

•  M.  d'Alembert  relates,  that  as  he  was  wjitking  in  the  gardens  of  Sans 
Souci  with  the  King  of  Prussia,  Frederick  said  to  Liin,  "  Do  you  see  that 
old  woman,  a  poor  weeder,  asleep  on  that  suuny  bank  ?  she  is  probably  a 
more  happy  being  than  either  of  us."  The  king  and  the  philosopher  may 
epeak  for  themselves ;  for  my  part,  I  do  not  envy  the  old  woman. 


OBSERVATIONS  ON  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  241 


happy  years  have  been  animated  by  the  labour  of  my 
History ;  and  its  success  has  given  me  a  name,  a  rank,  a 
character,  in  the  world,  to  which  I  should  not  otherwise 
have  been  entitled.  The  freedom  of  my  writings  has 
indeed  provoked  an  implacable  tribe ;  but  as  I  was  safe 
from  the  stings,  I  was  soon  accustomed  to  the  buzzing  of 
the  hornets :  my  nerves  were  not  tremblingly  alive,  and 
my  literary  temper  is  so  happily  framed,  that  I  am  less 
sensible  of  pain  than  of  pleasure.  The  rational  pride  of 
an  author  may  be  offended,  rather  than  flattered,  by 
vague  indiscriminate  praise ;  but  he  cannot,  he  should 
not,  be  indifferent  to  the  fair  testimonies  of  private  and 
public  esteem.  Even  his  moral  sympathy  may  be  grati- 
fied by  the  idea,  that  now,  in  the  present  hour,  he  is  im- 
parting some  degree  of  amusement  or  knowledge  to  his 
friends  in  a  distant  land ;  that  one  day  his  mind  will  be 
familiar  to  the  grandchildren  of  those  who  are  yet 
unborn.*  I  cannot  boast  of  the  friendship  or  favour  of 
princes  ;  the  patronage  of  English  literature  has  long 
since  been  devolved  on  our  booksellers,  and  the  measure 
of  their  liberality  is  the  least  ambiguous  test  of  our  com- 

*  In  th  e  first  of  ancient  or  modern  romances  (Tom  Jones),  this  proud  sen- 
timent, this  feast  of  fancy,  is  enjoyed  by  the  genius  of  Fielding. — "  Come, 
bright  love  of  fame,  &c.  fill  my  ravished  fancy  vv'ith  the  hopes  of  charming 
ages  yet  to  come.  Foretel  me  that  some  tender  maid,  whose  grandmother 
is  yet  unborn,  hereafter,  when,  under  the  fictitious  name  of  Sophia,  she 
reads  the  real  worth  which  once  existed  in  my  Charlotte,  shall  from  her 
Bympathetic  breast  send  forth  the  heaving  sigh.  Do  thou  teach  me  not 
only  to  foresee  but  to  enjoy,  nay  even  to  feed  on  future  praise.  Comfort 
me  by  the  solemn  assm-ance,  that,  when  the  Uttle  parlour  in  which  I  sit  at 
this  moment  shall  be  reduced  to  a  worse  furnished  box,  I  shall  be  read 
with  honour  by  those  who  never  knew  nor  saw  me,  and  whom  I  shall 
neither  know  nor  see."    Book  xiii.  ch.  1. 


242       OBSERVATIONS  ON  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


mon  success.  Perhaps  the  golden  mediocrity  of  my 
fortune  has  contributed  to  fortify  my  application. 

The  present  is  a  fleeting  moment ;  the  past  is  no  more ; 
and  our  prospect  of  futurity  is  dark  and  doubtful.  This 
day  may  possibly  be  my  last:  but  the  laws  of  probability, 
so  true  in  general,  so  fallacious  in  particular,  still  allow 
about  fifteen  years.*  I  shall  soon  enter  into  the  period 
which,  as  the  most  agreeable  of  his  long  life,  was  se- 
lected by  the  judgment  and  experience  of  the  sage  Fon- 
tenelle.  His  choice  is  approved  by  the  eloquent  historian 
of  nature,  who  fixes  our  moral  happiness  to  the  mature 
season  in  which  our  passions  are  supposed  to  be  calmed, 
our  duties  fulfilled,  our  ambition  satisfied,  our  fame  and 
fortune  established  on  a  solid  basis.f  In  private  conver- 
sation, that  great  and  amiable  man  added  the  weight  of 
his  own  experience  ;  and  this  autumnal  felicity  might  be 
exemplified  in  the  lives  of  Voltaire,  Hume,  and  many 
other  men  of  letters.  I  am  far  more  inclined  to  embrace 
than  to  dispute  this  comfortable  doctrine.  I  will  not  sup- 
pose any  premature  decay  of  the  mind  or  body  ;  but  I 
must  reluctantly  observe  that  two  causes,  the  abbrevia- 
tion of  time,  and  the  failure  of  hope,  will  always  tinge 
with  a  browner  shade  the  evening  of  life. 

*  Mr.  Buffon,  from  our  disregard  of  the  possibility  of  death  within  the 
four-and-twenty  hours,  concludes  that  a  chance,  which  falls  below  or  rises 
above  ten  thousand  to  one,  will  never  affect  the  hopes  or  fears  of  a  reason- 
able man.  The  fact  is  true,  but  our  courage  is  the  eflFect  of  thoughtlessness, 
rather  than  of  reflection.  If  a  public  lottery  were  drawn  for  the  choice  of 
an  immediate  victim,  and  if  our  name  were  inscribed  on  one  of  the  ten 
thousand  tickets,  should  we  be  perfectly  easy  ? 

t  See  Buffou. 


LETTERS 

FROM 

ED¥AED  &IBBON,  ESQ. 

TO 

LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


When  I  first  undertook  to  prepare  Mr.  Gibbon's  Me- 
moirs for  the  press,  I  supposed  that  it  would  be  necessary 
to  introduce  some  continuation  of  them,  from  the  time 
when  they  cease,  namely,  soon  after  his  return  to  Switz- 
erland in  the  year  1788 ;  but  the  examination  of  his  cor- 
respondence with  me  suggested,  that  the  best  continua- 
tion would  be  the  publication  of  his  letters  from  that  time 
to  his  death.  I  shall  thus  give  more  satisfaction,  by  em- 
ploying the  language  of  Mr.  Gibbon,  instead  of  my  own ; 
and  the  public  will  see  him  in  a  new  and  admirable  light, 
as  a  writer  of  letters.  By  the  insertion  of  a  few  occa- 
sional sentences,  I  shall  obviate  the  disadvantages  that 
are  apt  to  arise  from  an  interrupted  narration.  A  pre- 
judiced or  a  fastidious  critic  may  condemn,  perhaps, 
some  parts  of  the  letters  as  trivial ;  but  many  readers,  I 
flatter  myself,  will  be  gratified  by  discovering,  even  in 
these,  my  friend's  affectionate  feelings,  and  his  character 
in  familiar  life.  His  letters  in  general  bear  a  strong 
resemblance  to  the  style  and  turn  of  his  conversation : 
the  characteristics  of  which  were  vivacity,  elegance,  and 
precision,  with  knowledge  astonishingly  extensive  and 
correct.  He  never  ceased  to  be  instructive  and  enter- 
taining ;  and  in  general  there  was  a  vein  of  pleasantry  in 
his  conversation  which  prevented  its  becoming  languid. 


2(6 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


even  during  a  residence  of  many  months  with  a  family  in 
the  country. 

It  has  been  supposed  that  he  always  arranged  what  he 
intended  to  say,  before  he  spoke ;  his  quickness  in  con- 
versation contradicts  this  notion  :  but  it  is  very  true,  that 
before  he  sat  down  to  write  a  note  or  letter,  he  com- 
pletely arranged  in  his  mind  what  he  meant  to  express. 
He  pursued  the  same  method  in  respect  to  other  compo- 
sition; and  he  occasionally  would  walk  several  times 
about  his  apartment  before  he  had  rounded  a  period  to 
his  taste.  He  has  pleasantly  remarked  to  me,  that  it 
sometimes  cost  him  many  a  turn  before  he  could  throw 
a  sentiment  into  a  form  that  gratified  his  own  criticism. 
His  systematic  habit  of  arrangement  in  point  of  style, 
assisted  in  his  instance,  by  an  excellent  memory  and  cor- 
rect judgment,  is  much  to  be  recommended  to  those  who 
aspire  to  any  perfection  in  writing. 

Although  the  Memoirs  extend  beyond  the  time  of  Mr. 
Gibbon's  return  to  Lausanne,  I  shall  insert  a  few  letters 
written  immediately  after  his  arrival  there,  and  combine 
them  so  far  as  to  include  even  the  last  note  which  he 
wrote  a  few  days  previously  to  his  death.  Some  of 
them  contain  few  incidents ;  but  they  connect  and  carry 
on  the  account  either  of  his  opinions  or  of  his  employ- 
ment. 


Lausanne,  July  30,  1788. — Wednesday,  3  o'clock. 

I  have  but  a  moment  so  say,  before  the  departure  of 
the  post,  that  after  a  very  pleasant  journey,  I  arrived  here 
about  half  an  hour  ago ;  that  I  am  as  well  arranged  as  if 
I  had  never  stirred  fr^m  this  place ;  and  that  dinner  on 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD.  247 


the  table  is  just  announced.  Severy  I  dropped  at  his 
country-house  about  two  leagues  off.  I  just  saluted  the 
family,  who  dine  with  me  the  day  after  to-morrow,  and 
return  to  town  for  some  days,  I  hope  weeks,  on  my 
account.  The  son  is  an  amiable  and  grateful  youth  ;  and 
even  this  journey  has  taught  me  to  know  and  to  love  him 
still  better.  My  satisfaction  would  be  complete,  had  I 
not  found  a  sad  and  serious  alteration  in  poor  Deyverdun ; 
but  thus  our  joys  are  chequered  !  I  embrace  all ;  and  at 
this  moment  feel  the  last  pang  of  our  parting  at  T un- 
bridle. Convey  this  letter  or  information,  without  delay, 
from  Sheffield-place  to  Bath.  In  a  few  days  I  shall 
write  more  amply  to  both  places. 

October  1,  1788. 

After  such  an  act  of  vigour  as  my  first  letter,  com- 
posed, finished,  and  despatched  within  half  an  hour  aftei 
my  landing,  while  the  dinner  was  smoking  on  the  table, 
your  knowledge  of  the  animal  must  have  taught  you  to 
expect  a  proportionable  degree  of  relaxation ;  and  you 
will  be  satisfied  to  hear,  that,  for  many  Wednesdays  and 
Saturdays,  I  have  consumed  more  time  than  would  have 
sufficed  for  the  epistle,  in  devising  reasons  for  procrasti- 
nating it  to  the  next  post.  At  this  very  moment  I  begin 
so  very  late,  as  I  am  just  going  to  dress,  and  dine  in  the 
country,  that  I  can  take  only  the  benefit  of  the  date,  Oc- 
tober the  1st,  and  I  must  be  content  to  seal  and  send  my 
letter  next  Saturday, 

October  the  4  th. 

Saturday  is  now  arrived,  and  I  much  doubt  whether  I 
shall  have  time  to  finish.    I  arose,  as  usual,  about  seven ; 


S48 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEEFIELD. 


but  as  I  knew  I  should  have  so  much  time,  you  know  it 
would  have  been  ridiculous  to  begin  any  thing  before 
breakfast.    When  I  returned  from  my  breakfast-room  to 
the  library,  unluckily  I  found  on  the  table  some  new  and 
interesting  books,  which  instantly  caught  my  attention ; 
and  without  injuring  my  correspondent,  I  could  safely 
bestow  a  single  hour  to  gratify  my  curiosity.  Some 
things  which  I  found  in  them  insensibly  led  me  to  other 
books,  and  other  inquiries ;  the  morning  has  stolen  away 
and  I  shall  be  soon  summoned  to  dress  and  dine  with  the 
two  Severys,  father  and  son,  who  ai'e  returned  from  the 
country  on  a  disagreeable  errand,  an  illness  of  Madame, 
from  which  she  is,  however,  recovering.    Such  is  the 
faithful  picture  of  my  mind  and  manners,  and  from  a 
single  day  disce  omnes.    After  having  been  so  long 
chained  to  the  oar,  in  a  splendid  galley  indeed,  I  freely 
and  fairly  enjoyed  my  liberty  as  I  promised  in  my  pre- 
face ;  range  without  control  over  the  wide  expanse  of 
my  library;  converse,  as  my  fancy  prompts  me,  with 
poets  and  historians,  philosophers  and  orators,  of  every 
age  and  language  ;  and  often  indulge  my  meditations  in 
the  invention  and  arrangement  of  mighty  works,  which  I 
shall  probably  never  find  time  or  application  to  execute. 
My  garden,  bcrceau,  and  pavilion  often  varied  the  scene 
of  my  studies  ;  the  beautiful  weather  which  we  have  en- 
joyed exhilarated  my  spirits^nd  I  again  tasted  the  wis- 
dom and  happiness  of  my  retirement,  till  that  happiness 
was  interrupted  by  a  very  serious  calamity,  which  took 
from  me,  for  a  fortnight,  all  thoughts  of  study,  of  amuse- 
ment, and  even  of  correspondence.    I  mentioned  in  my 
first  letter  the  uneasiness  I  felt  at  poor  Deyverdun's 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


249 


declining  state  of  health,  how  much  the  pleasure  of  my 
life  was  embittered  by  the  sight  of  a  sufiering  and  lan- 
guid friend.  The  joy  of  our  meeting  appeared  at  first  to 
revive  him  ;  and,  though  not  satisfied,  I  began  to  think, 
at  least  to  hope,  that  he  was  every  day  gaining  ground ; 
when,  alas !  one  morning  I  was  suddenly  recalled  from 
my  berceau  to  the  house,  with  the  dreadful  intelligence  of 
an  apoplectic  stroke ;  I  found  him  senseless :  the  best 
assistance  was  instantly  collected ;  and  he  had  the  aid  of 
the  genius  and  experience  of  Mr.  Tissot,  and  of  the 
assiduous  care  of  another  physician,  who  for  some  time 
scarcely  quitted  his  bedside  either  night  or  day.  While 
I  was  in  momentary  dread  of  a  relapse,  with  a  confession 
from  his  physician  that  such  a  relapse  must  be  fatal,  you 
will  feel  that  I  was  much  more  to  be  pitied  than  my 
friend.  At  length,  art  or  nature  triumphed  over  the 
enemy  of  life.  I  was  soon  assured  that  all  immediate 
danger  was  past :  and  now  for  many  days  I  have  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  him  recover,  though  by  slow  degrees, 
his  health  and  strength,  his  sleep  and  appetite.  He  now 
walks  about  the  garden,  and  receives  his  particular 
friends,  but  has  not  yet  gone  abroad.  His  future  health 
will  depend  very  much  upon  his  own  prudence  ;  but,  at 
all  events,  this  has  been  a  very  serious  warning  ;  and  the 
slightest  indisposition  will  hereafter  assume  a  very  formi- 
dable aspect.  But  let  us  turn  from  this  melancholy 
subject. — The  Man  of  the  People  escaped  from  the 
tumult,  the  bloody  tumult  of  the  Westminster  election,  to 
the  lakes  and  mountains  of  Switzerland,  and  I  was 
informed  that  he  was  arrived  at  the  Lion  d'Or.  1  sent  a 
compliment ;  he  answered  it  in  person,  and  settled  at  my 


250       NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


house  for  the  remainder  of  the  day.  I  have  ate  and 
drank,  and  conversed  and  sat  up  all  night  vi^ith  Fox  in 
England  ;  but  it  never  has  happened,  perhaps  it  never  can 
happen  again,  that  I  should  enjoy  him  as  I  did  that  day, 
alone,  from  ten  in  the  morning  till  ten  at  night.  Poor 
Deyverdun,  before  his  accident,  wanted  spirits  to  appear, 
and  has  regretted  it  since.  Our  conversation  never 
flagged  a  moment ;  and  he  seemed  thoroughly  pleased 
with  the  place  and  with  his  company.  We  had  little 
politics  ;  though  he  gave  me,  in  a  few  words,  such  a  cha- 
racter of  Pitt,  as  one  great  man  should  give  of  another 
his  rival :  much  of  books,  from  my  own,  on  which  he 
flattered  me  very  pleasantly,  to  Homer  and  the  Arabian 
Nights ;  much  about  the  country,  my  garden  (which  he 
understands  far  better  than  I  do),  and,  upon  the  whole,  I 
think  he  envies  me,  and  would  do  so  were  he  minister. 
The  next  morning  I  gave  him  a  guide  to  walk  him  about 
the  town  and  country,  and  invited  some  company  to 
meet  him  at  dinner.  The  following  day  he  continued 
his  journey  to  Berne  and  Zurich,  and  I  have  heard  of  him 
by  various  means.  The  people  gaze  on  him  as  a  prodigy, 
but  he  shows  little  inclination  to  converse  with  them. 
*  *  *  *.  Our  friend  Douglas  has  been  curious,  at- 
tentive,  agreeable;  and  in  every  place  where  he  has  re- 
sided some  days,  he  has  left  acquaintance  who  esteem 
and  regret  him :  I  never  knew  so  clear  and  general 
an  impression. 

After  this  long  letter  I  have  yet  many  things  to  say, 
though  none  of  any  pressing  consequence.  I  hope  you 
are  not  idle  in  the  deliverance  of  Bcriton,  though  the  late 
events  and  edicts  in  France  begin  to  reconcile  me  to  the 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD.  251 


possession  of  dirty  acres.  What  think  you  of  Necker 
and  the  States  General  ?  Are  not  the  pubHc  expecta- 
tions too  saliguine?  Adieu,  I  will  write  soon  to  my 
lady  separately,  though  I  have  not  any  particular  subject 
for  her  ear.    Ever  yours. 

Lausanne,  Nov.  29,  1788. 

As  I  have  no  correspondents  but  yourself,  I  should 
have  been  reduced  to  the  stale  and  stupid  communica- 
tions of  the  newspapers,  if  you  had  not  dispatched  me  an 
excellent  sketch  of  the  extraordinary  state  of  things.  In 
so  new  a  case  the  salus  populi  must  be  the  first  law ; 
and  any  extraordinary  acts  of  the  two  remaining 
branches  of  the  legislature  must  be  excused  by  necessity, 
and  ratified  by  general  consent.  *  *****. 
Till  things  are  settled,  I  expect  a  regular  journal. 

From  kingdoms  I  descend  to  farms.  *****. 
Adieu. 

Lausanne,  Dec.  13,  1788. 

#*#***_  Qf  public  affairs  I  can  only  hear 
with  curiosity  and  wonder :  careless  as  you  may  think 
me,  I  feel  deeply  interested.  You  must  now  write  often  ; 
make  Miss  Firth  copy  any  curious  fragments ;  and  stir 
up  any  of  my  well-informed  acquaintance,  Batt,  Douglas, 
Adam,  perhaps  Lord  Loughborough,  to  correspond  with 
me  ;  I  will  answer  them. 

We  are  now  cold  and  gay  at  Lausanne.  The  Severys 
came  to  town  yesterday,  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  Lords 
Malmsbury  and  Beauchamp  and  their  ladies ;  Ellis,  of 
the  Rolliad,  was  with  them;  I  like  him  much:  1  gave 
them  a  dinner. 

Adieu  for  the  present.    Deyverdun  is  not  worse. 


252      NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHFEFIELD. 


Lausanne,  April  25,  1789. 

Before  youi-  letter,  which  I  received  yesterday,  I  v^^as 
in  the  anxious  situation  of  a  king,  who  hourly  expects  a 
courier  from  his  general,  with  the  news  of  a  decisive  en- 
gagement. I  had  abstained  from  writing,  for  fear  of 
dropping  a  word,  or  betraying  a  feeling,  which  might 
render  you  too  cautious  or  too  bold.  On  the  famous  8th 
of  April,  between  twelve  and  two,  I  reflected  that  the 
business  was  determined  ;  and  each  succeeding  day  1 
computed  the  speedy  appi-oach  of  your  messenger,  with 
favourable  or  melancholy  tidings.     When  I  broke  the 

seal  I  expected  to  read,  "  What  a  d  d  unlucky  fellow 

you  are !  Nothing  tolerable  was  oflx;red,  and  I  indig- 
nantly withdrew  the  estate."  I  did  remember  the  fate  of 
poor  Lenborough,  and  I  was  afraid  of  your  magnanimity, 
&c.  It  is  whimsical  enough,  but  it  is  human  nature,  that 
I  now  began  to  think  of  the  deep-rooted  foundations  of 
land,  and  the  airy  fabric  of  the  funds.  I  not  only  con- 
sent, but  even  wish  to  have  eight  or  ten  thousand  pounds 
on  a  good  mortgage.  The  pipe  of  wine  you  sent  me  was 
seized,  and  would  have  been  confiscated,  if  the  govern- 
ment of  Berne  had  not  treated  me  with  the  most  flatter- 
ing and  distinguished  civility :  they  not  only  released  the 
wine,  but  they  paid  out  of  their  own  pockets  the  shares 
to  which  the  bailifl"  and  the  informer  were  entitled  by 
law.  I  should  not  forgot  that  the  bail  iff  refused  to  ac- 
cept of  his  part.  Poor  Deyverdun's  constitution  is  quite 
broken ;  he  has  had  two  or  three  attacks,  not  so  violent 
as  the  first :  every  time  the  door  is  hastily  opened,  I  ex- 
pect to  hear  of  some  fatal  accident :  the  best  or  worst 
hopes  of  the  ohysicians  are  only  that  he  may  linger  some 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


253 


time  longer;  but,  if  he  lives  till  the  summer,  they  pro- 
pose sending  him  to  some  mineral  waters  at  Aix,  in 
Savoy.  You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  I  am  now  assured 
of  possessing,  during  my  life,  this  delighful  house  and 
garden.  The  act  has  been  lately  executed  in  the  best 
form,  and  the  handsomest  manner.  I  know  not  what  to 
say  of  your  miracles  at  home :  we  rejoice  in  the  king's 
recovery,  and  its  ministerial  consequences ;  and  I  cannot 
be  insensible  to  the  hope,  at  least  the  chance,  of  seeing  in 
this  country  a  first  lord  of  trade,  or  secretary  at  war.  la 
your  answer,  which  I  shall  impatiently  expect,  you  will 
give  me  a  full  and  true  account  of  your  designs,  which 
by  this  time  must  have  dropped,  or  be  determined  at 
least,  for  the  present  year.  If  you  come,  it  is  high  time 
that  we  should  look  out  for  a  house — a  task  much  less 
easy  than  you  may  possibly  imagine.  Among  new 
books,  I  recommend  to  you  the  Count  de  Mirabeau's 
great  work,  Sur  la  Monarchic  Pr-issienne ;  it  is  in  your 
own  way,  and  gives  a  very  just  and  complete  idea  ol 
that  wonderful  machine.  His  Correspondance  Secrette 
is  diabolically  good.    Adieu.    Ever  yours. 

Lausanne,  June  13,  1789. 

You  are  in  truth  a  wise,  active,  indefatigable,  and  in- 
estimable friend  ;  and  as  our  virtues  are  often  connected 
with  our  faults,  if  you  were  more  tame  and  placid,  you 
would  be  perhaps  of  less  use  and  value.  A  very  im- 
portant and  difficult  transaction  seems  to  be  nearly  ter- 
minated with  success  and  mutual  satisfaction :  we  seem 
to  rim  before  the  wind  with  a  prosperous  gale  ;  and,  un- 
less we  should  strike  on  some  secret  rocks,  which  I  do 


254 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


not  foresee,  shall,  on  or  before  the  31st  July,  enter  the 
harbour  of  Content ;  though  I  cannot  pursue  the  meta- 
phor by  adding  we  shall  land,  since  our  operation  is  of 
a  very  opposite  tendency.  I  could  not  easily  forgive 
myself  for  shutting  you  up  in  a  dark  room  with  parch- 
ments and  attorneys,  did  I  not  reflect  that  this  probably 
is  the  last  material  trouble  that  you  will  ever  have  on  my 
account ;  and  that  after  the  labours  and  delays  of  twenty 
years,  I  shall  at  last  attain  what  I  have  always  sighed 
for,  a  clear  and  competent  income,  above  my  wants,  and 
equal  to  my  wishes.  In  this  contemplation  you  will  be 
sufSciently  rewarded.  I  hope  ****  will  be  content  with 
our  title-deeds,  for  I  cannot  furnish  another  shred  ot 
parchment.  Mrs.  Gibbon's  jointure  is  secured  on  the 
Beriton  estate,  and  her  legal  consent  is  requisite  for  the 
sale.  Again  and  again  I  must  repeat  my  hope  that  she 
is  perfectly  satisfied,  and  that  the  close  of  her  life  may 
not  be  embittered  by  suspicion,  or  fear,  or  discon- 
tent. What  new  security  does  she  prefer, — the  funds, 
the  mortgage,  or  your  land  ?  At  all  events  she  must  be 
made  easy.  I  wrote  to  her  again  some  time  ago,  and 
begged  that  if  she  were  too  weak  to  write,  she  would  de- 
sire Mrs.  Gould  or  Mrs.  Holroyd  to  give  me  a  line  con- 
cerning her  state  of  health.  To  this  no  answer;  I  am 
afraid  she  is  displeased. 

Now  for  the  disposal  of  the  money :  I  approve  of  the 
£8000  mortgage  on  Beriton  ;  and  honour  your  prudence 
in  not  showing  by  the  comparison  of  the  rent  and  in- 
terest, how  foolish  it  is  to  purchase  land.  *  *  *  * 
*  *  ****■**-«  *  There  is  a  chance 
of  my  drawing  a  considerable  sum  into  this  country,  for 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  B.   LORD  SHEFFIELD.  255 


an  arrangement  which  you  yourself  must  approve,  but 
which  I  have  not  time  to  explain  at  present.  For  the 
sake  of  dispatching,  by  this  evening's  post,  an  answer  to 
your  letter  which  arrived  this  morning,  I  confine  myself 
to  the  needful,  but  in  the  course  of  a  few  days  I  will 
send  a  more  familiar  epistle.    Adieu.    Ever  yours. 

Lausanne,  July  14,  1789. 

Poor  Deyverdun  is  no  more :  he  expired  Saturday  the 
4th  instant :  and  in  his  unfortunate  situation,  death  could 
only  be  viewed  by  himseif,  and  his  friends,  in  the  light  of 
a  consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished.  Since  Septem- 
ber he  has  had  a  dozen  apoplectic  strokes,  more  or  less 
violent:  in  the  intervals  between  them  his  strength  grad- 
ually decayed ;  every  principle  of  life  was  exhausted ; 
and  had  he  continued  to  drag  a  miserable  existence,  he 
must  probably  have  survived  the  loss  of  his  faculties. 
Of  all  misfortunes  this  was  what  he  himself  most  appre- 
hended :  but  his  reason  was  clear  and  calm  to  the  last ; 
he  beheld  his  approaching  dissolution  with  the  firmness 
of  a  philosopher.  I  fancied  that  time  and  reflection  had 
prepared  me  for  the  event ;  but  the  habits  of  three-and- 
thirty  year's  friendship  are  not  so  easily  broken.  The 
first  days,  or  more  especially  the  first  nights,  were  indeed 
painful.  Last  Wednesday  and  Saturday  it  would  not 
have  been  in  my  power  to  write.  I  must  now  recollect 
myself,  since  it  is  necessary  for  me  not  only  to  impart 
the  news,  but  to  ask  your  opinion  in  a  very  serious  and 
doubtful  question,  which  must  be  decided  without  loss  of 
time.  I  shall  state  the  facts,  but  as  I  am  on  the  spot, 
and  as  new  lights  may  occur,  I  do  not  promise  implicit 
obedience. 


256        NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


Had  my  poor  friend  died  without  a  -will,  a  female  first 
cousin  settled  somewhere  in  the  north  of  Germany,  and 
whom  I  believe  he  had  never  seen,  would  have  been  his 
heir  at  law.  In  the  next  degree  he  had  several  cousins ; 
and  one  of  these  an  old  companion,  by  nan^e  M.  de  Mon- 
tagny,  he  has  chosen  for  his  heir.  As  this  house  and 
garden  was  the  best  and  clearest  part  of  poor  Dey  verdun's 
fortune ;  as  there  is  a  heavy  duty  or  fine  (what  they 
call  lods)  on  every  change  of  property  out  of  the  legal 
descent ;  as  Montagny  has  a  small  estate  and  a  large 
family,  it  was  necessary  to  make  some  provision  in  his 
favour.  The  will  therefore  leaves  me  the  option  of  en- 
joying this  place  during  my  life,  on  paying  the  sum  of 
£250  (I  reckon  in  English  money)  at  present  and  an 
annual  rent  of  £30  ;  or  else  of  purchasing  the  house  and 
garden  for  a  sum  which,  including  the  duty,  will  amount 
to  £2500.  If  I  value  the  rent  of  £30  at  twelve  years' 
purchase,  I  may  acquire  my  enjoyment  for  life  at  about 
the  rate  of  £600  ;  and  the  remaining  £1900  will  be  the 
difference  between  that  tenure  and  absolute  perpetual 
property.  As  you  have  never  accused  me  of  too  much 
zeal  for  the  interest  of  posterity,  you  will  easily  guess 
which  scale  at  first  preponderated.  1  deeply  felt  the 
advantage  of  acquiring,  for  the  smaller  sum,  every  pos- 
sible enjoyment,  as  long  as  I  myself  should  be  capable  of 
enjoying  :  I  rejected  with  scorn,  the  idea  of  giving  £1900 
for  ideal  posthumous  property ;  and  I  deemed  it  of  little 
moment  whose  name,  after  my  death  should  be  inscribed 
on  my  house  and  garden  at  Lausanne.  How  often  did  I 
repeat  to  myself  the  philosopical  lines  of  Pope,  which 
seemed  to  determine  the  question  : 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD  5257 


Pray  Heaven,  cries  Swift,  it  last  as  you  go  on  ; 
I  wish  to  God  this  house  had  been  your  own. 
Pity  to  build  witliout  or  son  or  wife ; 
Why,  you'll  enjoy  it  only  all  your  life. 
Well,  if  the  use  be  mine,  does  it  concern  one, 
Whether  the  name  belong  to  Pope  or  Vernon  ? 

In  this  State  of  self-satisfaction  I  was  not  much  dis- 
turbed by  all  my  real  or  nominal  friends,  who  exhort  me 
to  prefer  the  right  of  purchase  :  among  such  friends, 
some  are  careless  and  some  are  ignorant ;  and  the  judg- 
ment of  those,  who  are  able  and  willing  to  form  an 
opinion,  is  often  biassed  by  some  selfish  or  social  affection, 
by  some  visible  or  invisible  interest.  But  my  own  re- 
flections have  gradually  and  forcibly  driven  me  from  my 
first  propensity  ;  and  these  reflections  I  will  now  proceed 
to  enumerate : 

1.  I  can  make  this  purchase  with  ease  and  prudence. 
As  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  not  hearing  from  you  very 
lately,  I  flatter  myself  that  you  advance  on  a  carpet 
road,  and  that  almost  by  the  I'eceipt  of  this  letter  (July 
31st)  the  acres  of  Beriton  will  be  transmuted  into  sixteen 
thousand  pounds:  if  the  payment  be  not  absolutely  com- 
pleted on  that  day,  ****  will  not  scruple,  I  suppose, 
depositing  the  £2600  at  Gosling's,  to  meet  my  draft. 
Should  he  hesitate,  I  can  desire  Darell  to  sell  quantum 
sufficit  of  my  short  annuities.  As  soon  as  the  new 
settlement  of  my  affairs  is  made,  I  shall  be  able,  after 
deducting  this  sum,  to  square  my  expense  to  my  in- 
come, &c. 

2.  On  mature  consideration,  I  am  perhaps  less  selfish 
and  less  philosophical  than  I  appear  at  first  sight :  indeed, 
were  I  not  so,  it  would  now  be  in  my  power  to  turn  my  for- 


258 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD, 


tune  into  life-annuities,  and  let  the  devil  take  the  hindmost. 
I  feel,  (perhaps  it  is  foohsh,)  but  I  feel  that  this  Uttle 
paradise  will  please  me  still  more  when  it  is  absolutely 
my  own ;  and  that  I  shall  be  encouraged  in  every  im- 
provement of  use  or  beauty,  by  the  prospect  that,  after 
my  departure,  it  will  be  enjoyed  by  some  person  of  my 
own  choice.  I  sometimes  reflect  with  pleasure  that  my 
writings  will  survive  me :  and  that  idea  is  at  least  as 
vain  and  chimerical. 

3.  The  heir,  M.  de  Montagny,  is  an  old  acquaintance. 
My  situation  of  a  life-holder  is  rather  new  and  singular 
in  this  country  :  the  laws  have  not  provided  for  many  nice 
cases  which  may  arise  between  the  landlord  and  tenant  : 
some  I  can  forsee,  others  have  been  suggested,  many 
more  I  might  feel  when  it  would  be  too  late.  His  right 
of  property  might  plague  and  confine  me  :  he  might 
forbid  my  lending  to  a  friend,  inspect  my  conduct,  check 
my  improvements,  call  for  securities,  repairs,  &c.  But 
if  I  purchase,  I  walk  on  my  own  terrace,  fierce  and  erect, 
the  free  master  of  one  of  the  most  delicipus  spots  on  the 
globe. 

Should  I  ever  migrate  homewards,  (you  stare,  but  such 
an  event  is  less  improbable  than  I  could  have  thought  it 
two  years  ago,)  this  place  would  be  disputed  by  strangers 
and  natives. 

Weigh  these  reasons,  and  send  me  without  delay  a 
rational  explicit  opinion,  to  which  I  shall  pay  such  regard 
as  the  nature  of  circumstances  will  allow.  But,  alas  ! 
when  all  is  determined,  I  shall  possess  this  house,  by 
whatsoever  tenure,  without  friendship  or  domestic  society. 
I  did  not  imagine,  six  years  ago,  that  a  plan  of  life  so 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD.  259 


congenial  to  my  wishes,  would  so  speedily  vanish.  I 
cannot  write  upon  any  other  subject.  Adieu,  yours 
ever. 

Laasanne,  August,  1789. 

After  receiving  and  dispatching  the  power  of  attorney, 
last  Wednesday,  I  opened  with  some  palpitation,  the  un- 
expected missive  which  arrived  this  morning.  The 
perusal  of  the  contents  spoiled  my  breakfast.  They  are 
disagreeable  in  themselves,  alarming  in  their  conse- 
quences, and  pecuharly  unpleasant  at  the  present  moment, 
when  I  hoped  to  have  formed  and  secured  the  arrange- 
ments of  my  future  life.  I  "do  not  perfectly  under- 
stand what  are  these  deeds  which  are  so  inflexibly  re- 
quired :  the  wills  and  marriage-settlements  I  have  suffi- 
ciently answered.  But  your  arguments  do  not  convince 
****,  and  I  have  very  little  hope  from  the  Lenborough 
search?  What  will  be  the  event?  If  his  objections  are 
only  the  result  of  legal  scrupulosity,  surely  they  might 
be  removed,  and  every  chink  might  be  filled,  by  a  general 
bond  of  indemnity,  in  which  I  boldly  ask  you  to  join,  as 
it  will  be  a  substantial  important  act  of  friendship,  with- 
out any  possible  risk  to  yourself  or  your  successors. 
Should  he  still  remain  obdurate,  I  must  believe  what  I 
already  suspect,  that  ****  repents  of  his  purchase,  and 
wishes  to  elude  the  conclusion.  Our  case  would  be  then 
hopeless,  ibi  omnis  effusus  labor,  and  the  estate  would  be 
returned  on  our  hands  with  the  taint  of  a  bad  title.  The 
refusal  of  mortgage  does  not  please  me ;  but  surely  our 
offer  shows  some  confidence  in  the  goodness  of  my  title. 
If  he  will  not  take  eight  thousand  pounds  at /owrj>er  cent. 
Vfe  must  look  out  elsewhere ;  new  doubts  and  delays 


260       NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


will  arise,  and  I  am  persuaded  that  you  will  not  place  an 
implicit  confidence  in  any  attorney.  I  know  not  as  yet 
your  opinion  about  my  Lausanne  purchase.  If  you  are 
against  it,  the  present  position  of  affairs  gives  you  great 
advantage,  &c.,  &c.  The  Severys  are  all  well;  an 
uncommon  circumstance  for  the  four  pei-sons  of  the 
family  at  once.  They  are  now  at  Mex,  a  country-house 
six  miles  from  hence,  which  I  visit  to-morrow  for  two  or 
three  days.  They  often  come  to  town,  and  we  shall  con- 
trive to  pass  a  part  of  the  autumn  together  at  Rolle.  I 
want  to  change  the  scene ;  and  beautiful  as  the  garden 
and  prospect  must  appear  to  every  eye,  I  feel  that  the 
state  of  my  own  mind  casts  a  gloom  over  them ;  every 
spot,  every  walk,  every  bench,  recals  the  memory  of 
those  hours,  of  those  conversations,  which  will  return  no 
more.  But  I  tear  myself  from  the  subject.  I  could  not 
help  writing  to-day,  though  I  do  not  find  I  have  said 
anything  very  material.  As  you  must  be  conscious  that 
you  have  agitated  me,  you  will  not  postpone  any  agree- 
able, or  even  decisive  intelligence.  I  almost  hesitate, 
whether  I  shall  run  over  to  England,  to  consult  with  you 
on  the  spot,  and  to  fly  from  poor  Deyverdun's  shade,  which 
meets  me  at  every  turn.  I  did  not  expect  to  have  felt 
his  loss  so  sharply.  But  six  hundred  miles  !  Why  are 
we  so  far  off? 

Once  more.  What  is  the  difficulty  with  the  title  ?  Will 
men  of  sense,  in  a  sensible  country,  never  get  rid  of  the 
tyranny  of  lawyers  ?  more  oppressive  and  ridiculous  than 
even  the  old  yoke  of  the  clergy.  Is  not  a  term  of  seventy 
or  eighty  years,  nearly  twenty  in  my  own  person,  sufficient 
to  prove  our  legal  possession  ?    Will  not  the  records  of 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD.  261 


fines  and  recoveries  attest  that  /  am  free  from  any  bar  of 
entails  and  settlements  ?  Consult  some  sage  of  the  law, 
whether  their  present  demand  be  necessary  and  legal. 
If  your  ground  be  firm,  force  them  to  execute  the  agree- 
ment or  forfeit  the  deposit.  But  if,  as  I  much  fear,  they 
have  a  right,  and  a  wish,  to  elude  the  consummation, 
would  it  not  be  bette^o  release  them  at  once,  than  to  be 
hung  up  for  five  years,  as  in  the  case  of  Lovegrove, 
which  cost  me  in  the  end  four  or  five  thousand  pounds  ? 
You  are  bold,  you  are  wise;  consult,  resolve,  act.  In  my 
penultimate  letter  I  dropped  a  strange  hint,  that  a  migra- 
tion homeward  was  not  impossible.  I  know  not  what  to 
say ;  my  mind  is  all  afloat ;  yet  you  will  not  reproach 
me  with  caprice  or  inconsistency.  How  many  years  did 
you  d — n  my  scheme  of  retiring  to  Lausanne !  I  ex- 
ecuted that  plan ;  I  found  as  much  happiness  as  is  com- 
patible with  human  nature,  and  during  four  years  (1783 
1787)  I  never  breathed  a  sigh  of  repentance.  On  my 
return  from  England  the  scene  was  changed :  I  found 
only  a  faint  semblance  of  Deyverdun,  and  that  semblance 
was  each  day  fading  from  my  sight.  I  have  passed  an 
anxious  year,  my  anxiety  is  now  at  an  end,  and  the  pros- 
pect before  me  is  a  melancholy  solitude.  I  am  still  deeply 
rooted  in  this  country;  the  possession  of  this  paradise, 
the  friendship  of  the  Severy's,  a  mode  of  society  suited  to 
my  taste,  and  the  enormous  trouble  and  expense  of 
a  migration.  Yet  in  England  (when  the  present  clouds 
are  dispelled)  I  could  form  a  very  comfortable  establish- 
ment in  London,  or  rather  at  Bath ;  and  I  have  a  very 
noble  country-seat  at  about  ten  miles  from  East  Grin- 


262       NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


Stead  in  Sussex.*  That  spot  is  dearer  to  me  than  the 
rest  of  the  three  kingdoms  ;  and  I  have  sometimes  won- 
dered how  two  men,  so  opposite  in  their  tempers  and 
pursuits,  should  have  imbibed  so  long  and  lively  a  pro- 
pensity for  each  other.  Sir  Stanier  Porten  is  just  dead. 
He  has  left  his  widow  with  a  moderate  pension,  and  two 
children,  my  nearest  relations :  if^  eldest,  Charlotte,  is 
about  Louisji's  age,  and  also  a  most  amiable,  sensible 
young  creature.  I  have  conceived  a  romantic  idea  of 
educating  and  adopting  her ;  as  we  descend  into  the  vale 
of  years,  our  infirmities  require  some  domestic  female 
society :  Charlotte  would  be  the  comfort  of  my  age,  and 
I  could  reward  her  care  and  tenderness  with  a  decent 
fortune.  A  thousand  difficulties  oppose  the  execution  of 
the  plan,  which  I  have  never  opened  but  to  you;  yet  it 
would  be  less  impracticable  in  England  than  in  Swit- 
zerland. Adieu.  I  am  wounded,  pour  some  oil  into  my 
wounds  :  yet  I  am  less  unhappy  since  I  have  thrown  my 
mind  upon  paper. 

Are  you  not  amazed  at  the  French  revolution  ?  They 
have  the  power,  will  they  have  the  moderation,  to  estab- 
lish a  good  constitution  ?    Adieu,  ever  yours. 

Lausanne  Sept.  9,  1789. 

Within  an  hour  after  the  reception  of  your  last,  I  drew 
my  pen  for  the  purpose  of  a  reply,  and  my  exordium  ran 
in  the  following  words  :  "  I  find  by  experience,  that  it  is 
much  more  rational,  as  well  as  easy,  to  answer  a  letter  of 
real  business  by  the  return  of  the  post."    This  important 

"  Alluding  to  Sheffield-place. 


NAREAflVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD.  263 


truth  is  again  verified  by  my  own  example.*  After 
writing  three  pages  I  was  called  away  by  a  very  rational 
motive,  and  the  post  departed  before  I  could  return  to 
the  conclusion.  A  second  delay  was  coloured  by  some 
decent  pretence.  Three  weeks  have  slipped  away,  and  I 
now  force  myself  on  a  task,  which  I  should  have 
despatched  without  an  effort  on  the  first  summons.  My 
only  excuse  is,  that  I  had  little  to  write  about  English 
business,  and  that  I  could  write  nothing  definite  about  my 
Swiss  affairs.    And  first,  as  Aristotle  says,  of  the  first, 

1.  I  was  indeed  in  low  spirits  when  I  sent  what  you 
so  justly  style  my  dismal  letter  ;  but  I  do  assure  you,  that 
my  own  feelings  contributed  much  more  to  sink  me,  than 
any  events  or  terrors  relative  to  the  sale  of  Beriton.  But 
I  again  hope  and  trust,  from  your  consolatory  epistle, 
that,  &c.  &;c. 

2.  My  Swiss  transaction  has  suffered  a  great  altera- 
tion. I  shall  not  become  the  proprietor  of  my  house  and 
garden  at  Lausanne,  and  I  relinquish  the  phantom  with 
more  regret  than  you  could  easily  imagine.  But  I  have 
been  determined  by  a  difficulty,  which  at  first  appeared  of 
little  moment,  but  which  has  gradually  swelled  to  an 
alarming  magnitude.  There  is  a  law  in  this  country,  as 
well  as  in  some  provinces  of  France,  which  is  styled  "  le 
droit  de  retrait,  le  retrait  lignagere"  (Lord  Lough- 
bourough  must  have  heard  of  it),  by  which  the  relations 
of  the  deceased  are  entitled  to  redeem  a  house  or  estate 
at  the  price  for  which  it  has  been  sold  ;  and  as  the  sum 
fixed  by  poor  Deyverdun  is  much  below  its  known 
value,  a  crowd  of  competitors  are  beginning  to  start. 
The  best  opinions  (for  they  are  divided)  are  in  my  iavour, 


264       NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


that  I  am  not  subject  to  "  le  droit  de  retrait,"  since  I  take 
not  as  a  purchaser,  but  as  a  legatee.  But  the  words  of 
the  will  somewhat  ambiguous,  the  event  of  law  is  always 
uncertain,  the  administration  of  justice  at  Berne  (the  last 
appeal)  depends  too  much  on  favour  and  intrigue ;  and  it 
is  very  doubtful  whether  I  could  revert  to  the  Ufe-hold- 
ing,  after  having  chosen  and  lost  the  property.  These 
considerations  engaged  me  to  open  negotiations  with  M. 
de  Montagny,  through  the  medium  of  my  friend  the 
judge  ;  and  as  he  most  ardently  wishes  to  keep  the  house, 
he  consented,  though  with  some  reluctance,  to  my  propo- 
sals. Yesterday  he  signed  a  covenant  in  the  most  re- 
gular and  binding  form,  by  which  he  allows  my  power 
of  transferring  my  interest,  interprets  in  the  most  ample 
sense  my  right  of  making  alterations,  and  expressly 
renounces  all  claim,  as  landlord,  of  visiting  or  inspecting 
the  premises.  I  have  promised  to  lend  him  twelve  thou- 
sand livres,  (between  seven  and  eight  hundred  pounds), 
secured  on  the  house  and  land.  The  mortgage  is  four 
times  its  value ;  the  interest  of  four  pounds  per  cent, 
will  be  anually  discharged  by  the  rent  of  thirty  guineas. 
So  that  I  am  now  tranquil  on  that  score  for  the  remainder 
of  my  days.  I  hope  that  time  will  gradually  reconcile 
me  to  the  place  which  I  have  inhabited  with  my  poor 
friend ;  for  in  spite  of  the  cream  of  London,  I  am  still 
persuaded  that  no  other  place  is  so  well  adapted  to  my 
taste  and  habits  of  studious  and  social  life. 

Far  from  delighting  in  the  whirl  of  a  metropolis,  my 
only  complaint  against  Lausanne  is  the  great  number  of 
strangers,  always  of  English,  and  now  of  French,  by 
whom  we  are  infested  in  summer.    Yet  we  have  escaped 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


265 


the  d  d  great  ones,  the  Count  d'Artois,  the  Polignacs, 

&c.  who  shp  by  us  to  Turin.  What  a  scene  is  France  ! 
While  the  assembly  is  voting  abstract  propositions,  Paris 
is  an  independent  repubHc  ;  the  provinces  have  neither 
authority  nor  freedom,  and  poor  Necker  declares  that 
credit  is  no  more,  and  that  the  people  refuse  to  pay  taxes. 
Yet  I  think  you  must  be  seduced  by  the  abolition  of 
tithes.  If  Eden  goes  to  Paris  you  may  have  some  curious 
information.  Give  me  some  account  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Douglas.  Do  they  live  with  Lord  North  ?  1  hope  they 
do.  When  will  parliament  be  dissolved  1  Are  you  still 
Coventry  mad  ?  I  embrace  my  lady,  the  sprightly 
Maria,  and  the  smiling  Louisa.  Alas  !  alas  !  you  will 
never  come  to  Switzerland.    Adieu,  ever  yours. 

Lausanne,  Sept.  25th,  1789. 

Alas  !  what  perils  do  envirou 

The  man  who  meddles  with  cold  iron. 

Alas!  what  delays  and  difficulties  do  attend  the  man 
who  meddles  with  legal  and  landed  business  !  yet  if  it  be 
only  to  disappoint  your  expectation,  I  am  not  so  very 
nervous  at  this  new  provoking  obstacle.  I  had  totally 
forgotten  the  deed  in  question,  which  was  contrived  in 
the  last  year  of  my  father's  life,  to  tie  his  hands  and  regu- 
late the  disorders  of  his  affairs;  and  which  might  have 
been  so  easily  cancelled  by  Sir  Stanier,  who  had  not  the 
smallest  interest  in  it,  either  for  himself  or  his  family. 
The  amicable  suit  which  is  now  become  necessary  must, 
I  think,  be  short  and  unambiguous,  yet  I  cannot  help 
dreading  the  crotchets  that  lurk  under  the  chancellor's 
great  wig ;  and,  at  all  events,  I  forsee  some  additional 


266 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


delay  and  expense.  The  golden  pill  of  the  £2800  has 
soothed  my  discontent ;  and  if  it  be  safely  lodged  with 
the  Goslings,  I  agree  with  you  in  considering  it  as  an 
unequivocal  pledge  of  a  fair  and  willing  purchaser.  It 
is,  indeed,  chiefly  in  that  light  I  now  rejoice  in  so  large  a 
deposit,  which  is  no  longer  necessary  in  its  full  extent. 
You  are  apprised  by  my  last  letter  that  I  have  reduced 
myself  to  the  life  enjoyment  of  the  house  and  garden. 
And,  in  spite  of  my  feelings,  I  am  every  day  more  con- 
vinced that  I  have  chosen  the  safer  side.  I  believe  my 
cause  to  have  been  good,  but  it  was  doubtful.  Law  in 
this  country  is  not  so  expensive  as  in  England,  but  it  is 
more  troublesome.  I  must  have  gone  to  Berne,  have 
solicited  my  judges  in  person — a  vile  custom  !  the  event 
was  uncertain ;  and  during  at  least  two  years,  I  snoulJ 
have  been  in  a  state  of  suspense  and  anxiety :  till  the 
conclusion  of  which  it  would  have  been  madness  to  have 
attempted  any  alteration  or  improvement.  According 
to  my  present  arrangement  I  shall  want  no  more  than 
£l  100  of  the  £2000,  and  I  suppose  you  will  direct  Gosling 
to  lay  out  the  remainder  in  India  bonds,  thai:  it  may  not 
lie  quite  dead,  while  I  am  accountable  to  ****  for  the 
interest.  The  elderly  lady  in  a  male  habit,  who  informed 
me  that  Yorkshire  is  a  register  county,  is  a  certain  judge, 
one  Sir  William  Blackstone,  whose  name  you  may  pos- 
sibly have  heard.  After  stating  the  danger  of  purchasers 
and  creditors,  with  regard  to  the  title  of  estates  on  which 
they  lay  out  or  lend  their  money,  he  thus  continues :  "  In 
Scotland  every  act  and  event  regarding  the  transmission 
of  property  is  regularly  entered  on  record  ;  and  some  of 
our  own  provincial  divisions,  particularly  the  extended 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFHELD.  267 


county  of  York  and  the  populous  county  of  Middlesex, 
have  prevailed  with  the  legislature  to  erect  such  registers 
within  their  respective  districts."  (Blackstone's  Cooi- 
mentaries,  vol.  ii.  p.  M3,  edition  of  1774,  in  quarto.)  If 
I  am  mistaken,  it  is  in  pretty  good  company ;  but  I  sus- 
pect that  we  are  all  right,  and  that  the  register  is  confined 
to  one  or  two  ridings.  As  we  have,  alas  !  two  or  three 
months  before  us,  I  should  hope  that  your  prudent  saga- 
city will  discover  some  sound  land,  in  case  you  should 
not  have  time  to  arrange  another  mortgage.  I  now 
write  in  a  hurry,  as  I  am  just  setting  out  for  Rolle,  where 
I  shall  be  settled  with  cook  and  servants  in  a  pleasant 
apartment  till  the  middle  of  November.  The  Severys 
have  a  house  there,  where  they  pass  the  autumn.  1  am 
not  sorry  to  vary  the  scene  for  a  few  weeks,  and  I  wish 
to  be  absent  while  some  alterations  are  making  in  my 
house  at  Lausanne.  I  wish  the  change  of  air  may  be  of 
service  to  Severy  the  father,  but  we  do  not  at  all  like  his 
present  state  of  health.  How  completely,  alas,  how  com- 
pletely 1  could  I  now  lodge  you :  but  your  firm  resolve 
of  making  me  a  visit  seems  to  have  vanished  like  a 
dream.  Next  summer  you  will  not  find  five  hundred 
pounds  for  a  rational  friendly  expedition:  and  should 
parliament  bo  dissolved,  you  will  perhaps  find  five 
thousand  for  ****.  J  cannot  think  of  it  with  patience. 
Pray  take  serious  strenuous  measures  for  sending  me  a 
pipe  of  excellent  Madeira  in  cask,  with  some  dozens  of 
Malmsey  Madeira.  It  should  be  consigned  to  Messrs. 
Romberg,  voituriers,  at  Ostend,  and  I  must  have  timely 
notice  of  its  march.     We  have  so  much  to  say  about 


268       NARRATLVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEEFJELD. 


France,  that  I  suppose  we  shall  never  say  anything. 
That  country  is  now  in  a  state  of  dissolution.  Adieu. 

Lausanne,  December  15th,  1789. 

■  You  have  often  reason  to  accuse  my  strange  silence 
and  neglect  in  the  most  important  of  my  own  affairs ;  for 
I  will  presume  to  assert,  that  in  a  business  of  yours  of 
equal  consequence,  you  should  not  find  me  co!d  or  care- 
less. But  on  the  present  occasion  my  silence  is,  perhaps, 
the  highest  compliment  I  ever  paid  you.  You  remember 
the  answer  of  Philip  of  Macedon :  *'  Philip  may  sleep  while 
he  knows  that  Parmenio  is  awake."  I  expected,  and,  to 
say  the  truth,  I  wished  that  my  Parmenio  would  have 
decided  and  acted,  without  expecting  my  dilatory  answer, 
and  in  his  decision  I  should  have  acquiesced  with  implicit 
confidence.  But  since  you  will  have  my  opinion,  let  us 
con^rider  the  present  state  of  my  affairs.  In  the  course 
of  my  life  I  have  often  known,  and  sometimes  felt,  the 
difficulty  of  getting  money,  but  I  now  find  myself  in- 
volved in  a  more  singular  distress,  the  difficulty  of 
placing  it,  and  if  it  continues  much  longer,  I  shall  almost 
wish  for  my  land  again. 

I  perfectly  agree  with  you,  that  it  is  bad  management 
to  purchase  in  the  funds  when  they  do  not  yield  four 
pounds  per  cent.  *  *  *.  Some  of  this  money  I  can 
place  safely,  by  means  of  my  banker  here  ;  and  I  shall 
possess,  what  1  have  always  desired,  a  command  of  cash, 
which  I  cannot  abuse  to  my  prejudice,  since  I  have  it 
in  my  power  to  supply  with  my  pen  any  extraordinary 
or  fanciful  indulgence  of  expense.  And  so  much — much, 
indeed — for  pecuniary  matters.    What  would  you  have 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


269 


me  say  on  the  affairs  of  France  ?  We  are  too  near,  and 
too'remote,  to  form  an  accurate  jndgment  of  that  won- 
derful scene.  The  abuses  of  the  court  and  government 
called  aloud  for  reformation ;  and  it  has  happened,  as  it 
will  always  happen,  that  an  innocent,  well-disposed 
prince  has  paid  the  forfeit  of  the  sins  of  his  predecessors  ; 
of  the  ambition  of  Louis  XIV.,  of  the  profusion  of  Louis 
XV.  The  French  nation  had  a  glorious  opportunity,  but 
they  have  abused,  and  may  lose  their  advantages.  If 
they  had  been  content  with  a  liberal  translation  of  our 
system,  if  they  had  respected  the  prerogatives  of  the 
crown,  and  the  pi-ivileges  of  the  nobles,  they  might  have 
raised  a  solid  fabric,  on  the  only  true  foundation,  the 
natural  aristocracy  of  a  great  country.  How  different  is 
the  prospect !  Their  king  brought  a  captive  to  Paris, 
after  his  palace  had  been  stained  with  the  blood  of  his 
guards ;  the  nobles  in  exile ;  the  clergy  plundered  in  a 
way  which  strikes  at  the  root  of  all  property  :  the  capital 
an  independent  republic  ;  the  union  of  the  provinces  dis- 
solved ;  the  flames  of  discord  kindled  by  the  worst  of 
men  ;  (in  that  light  I  consider  Mirabeau :)  and  the  honest- 
est  of  the  assembly  a  set  of  wild  visionaries,  (like  our  Dr. 
Price,)  who  gravely  debate,  and  dream  about  the  estab- 
blishment  of  a  pure  and  perfect  democracy  of  five-and- 
twenty  millions,  the  virtues  of  the  golden  age,  and  the 
primitive  rights  and  equality  of  mankind,  which  would 
lead,  in  fair  reasoning,  to  an  equal  partition  of  lands  and 
money.  How  many  years  must  elapse  before  France 
can  recover  any  vigour,  or  resume  her  station  among 
the  powers  of  Europe  !    As  yet,  there  is  no  symptom  of 


270       NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


a  great  man,  a  Richelieu  or  a  Cromwell,  arising,  either  to 
restore  the  monarchy,  or  to  lead  the  commonwealth. 
The  weight  of  Paris,  more  deeply  engaged  in  the  funds 
than  all  the  rest  of  the  kingdom,  will  long  delay  a  bank- 
ruptcy ;  and  if  it  should  happen,  it  will  be,  both  in  the 
cause  and  the  effect,  a  measure  of  weakness  rather  than 
of  strength.  You  send  me  to  Chamberry,  to  see  a  prince 
and  an  archbishop.  Alas  !  we  have  exiles  enough  here, 
with  the  Marshall  de  Castries  and  the  Duke  de  Guignes 
at  their  head :  and  this  inundation  of  strangers,  which 
used  to  be  confined  to  the  summer,  will  now  stagnate 
all  the  winter.  The  only  ones  whom  I  have  seen  with 
pleasure  are  M.  Mounier,  the  late  president  of  the  national 
assembly,  and  the  Count  de  Lally ;  they  have  both  dined 
with  me.  Mounier,  who  is  a  serious  dry  politician,  is 
returned  to  Dauphine.  Lally  is  an  amiable  man  of  the 
world,  and  a  poet :  he  passes  the  winter  here.  You 
know  how  much  I  prefer  a  quiet  select  society  to  a 
crowd  of  names  and  titles,  and  that  I  always  seek  con- 
versation with  a  view  to  amusement  rather  than  infor- 
mation. What  happy  countries  are  England  and  Swit- 
zerland, if  they  know  and  preserve  their  happiness. 

I  have  a  thousand  things  to  say  to  my  lady,  Maria,  and 
Louisa,  but  I  can  add  only  a  short  postscript  about  the 
the  Madeira.  Good  Madeira  is  now  become  essential  to 
my  health  and  reputation.  May  your  hogshead  prove 
as  good  as  the  last ;  may  it  not  be  intercepted  by  the 
rebels  or  the  Auslrians.  What  a  scene  again  in  that 
country !  Happy  England  !  Happy  Switzerland  !  I 
again  repeat.  Adieu. 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LoRD  SHEFFIELD.  271 


Lausanne,  January  27th,  1790. 

Your  two  last  epistles  of  the  7th  and  11th  instant, 
were  somewhat  delayed  on  the  road  ;  they  arrived  with- 
in two  days  of  each  other,  the  last  this  morning,  (the  27th) : 
so  that  I  answer  by  the  first,  or  at  least  by  the  second 
post.  Upon  the  whole,  your  French  method,  though 
sometimes  more  rapid,  appears  to  me  less  sure  and  steady 
than  the  old  German  highway,  &c.,  &c.  ***** 

Bat  enough  of  this.  A  new  and  brighter  prospect 
seems  to  be  breaking  upon  ns,  and  few  events  of  that 
kind  have  ever  given  me  more  pleasure  than  your  suc- 
cessful negotiation  and  ****'s  satisfactory  answer.  The 
agreement  is,  indeed,  equally  convenient  for  both  parties  : 
no  time  or  expense  will  be  wasted  in  scrutinizing  the 
title  of  the  estate;  the  interest  will  be  secured  by  the 
clause  of  five  per  cent.,  and  I  lament  with  you,  that  no 
larger  sum  than  £S000  can  be  placed  on  Beriton,  with- 
out asking  (what  might  be  somewhat  impudent)  a  col- 
lateral security,  &c.,  &c.  *****  But  i  vvish 
you  to  choose  and  execute  one  or  the  other  of  these 
arrangements  with  sage  discretion  and  absolute  power. 
I  shorten  my  letter,  that  1  may  dispatch  it  by  this  post. 
I  see  the  time,  and  I  shall  rejoice  to  see  it  at  the  end  of 
twenty  years,  when  my  cares  will  be  at  an  end,  and  our 
friendly  pages  will  no  longer  be  sullied  with  the  repetition 
of  dirty  land  and  vile  money ;  when  we  may  expatiate  on 
the  politics  of  the  world  and  our  personal  sentiments.  With- 
out expecting  your  answer  of  business,  I  mean  to  write 
soon  in  a  purer  style,  and  I  wish  to  lay  open  to  my  friend  the 
state  of  my  mind,  which  (exclusive  of  all  worldly  con- 
cerns) is  not  perfectly  at  ease.    In  the  meanwhile,  I 


272       NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


must  add  two  or  three  short  articles.  1.  I  am  astonished 
at  Elmsly's  silence,  and  the  immobility  of  your  picture. 
Mine  should  have  departed  long  since,  could  I  have 
found  a  sure  opportunity,  &c.,  &c.    Adieu,  yours. 

Lausanne,  May  15th,  1790. 

Since  the  first  origin  {ab  ovo)  of  our  connexion  and 
correspondence,  so  long  an  interval  of  silence  has  no| 
intervened,  as  far  as  I  remember,  between  us,  &c.,  &c. 

From  my  silence  you  conclude  that  the  moral  com- 
plaint, which  I  had  insinuated  in  my  last,  is  either  insig- 
nificant or  fanciful.  The  conclusion  is  rash.  But  the 
complaint  in  question  is  of  the  nature  of  a  slow  lingering 
disease,  which  is  not  attended  with  any  immediate 
danger.  As  I  have  not  leisure  to  expatiate,  take  the 
idea  in  three  words :  "  Since  the  loss  of  poor  Deyver- 
dun,  I  am  alone;  and  even  in  Paradise,  solitude  is  painful 
to  a  social  mind.  When  I  was  a  dozen  years  younger,  I 
scarcely  felt  the  weight  of  a  single  existence  amidst  the 
crowds  of  London,  of  parliament,  of  clubs  ;  but  it  will 
press  more  heavily  upon  me  in  this  tranquil  land,  in  the 
decline  of  life,  and  with  the  increase  of  infirmities. 
Some  expedient,  even  the  most  desperate,  must  be  em- 
braced, to  secure  the  domestic  society  of  a  male  or 
female  companion.  But  I  am  not  in  a  hurry ;  there  is 
time  for  reflection  and  advice."  During  this  winter  such 
finer  feelings  have  been  suspended  by  the  grosser  evil  of 
bodily  pain.  On  the  ninth  of  February  I  was  seized  by 
such  a  fit  of  the  gout  as  I  had  never  known,  though  I 
must  be  thankful  that  its  dire  effects  have  been  con- 
fined to  the  feet  and  knees  without  ascending  to  the 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD.  273 


more  noble  parts.  With  some  viscissitudes  of  better  and 
worse,  I  have  groaned  between  two  and  three  months : 
the  debility  has  survived  the  pain,  and  though  now  easy, 
1  am  carried  about  in  my  chair,  without  any  power,  and 
with  a  very  distant  chance,  of  supporting  myself,  from 
the  extreme  weakness  and  contraction  of  the  joints  of  my 
knees.  Yet  I  am  happy  in  a  skilful  physician,  and  kind 
assiduous  friends  ;  every  evening,  during  more  than  three 
months,  has  been  enlivened  (excepting  when  I  have  been 
forced  to  receive  them)  by  some  cheerful  visits,  and  very 
often  by  a  chosen  party  of  both  sexes.  How  different  is 
such  society  from  the  solitary  evenings  which  I  have 
passed  in  the  tumult  of  London  !  It  is  not  worth  while 
fightins;  about  a  shadow,  but  should  I  ever  return  to 
England,  Bath,  not  the  metropolis,  would  be  my  la^t 
retreat. 

Your  portrait  is  at  last  arrived  in  perfect  condition,  and 
now  occupies  a  conspicuous  place  over  the  chimney-glass 
in  my  library.  It  is  the  object  of  general  admiration ; 
good  judges  (the  few)  applaud  the  work  ;  the  name  of 
Reynolds  opens  the  eyes  and  mouths  of  the  many ;  and 
were  not  I  afraid  of  making  you  vain,  I  would  inform 
you  that  the  original  is  not  allowed  to  be  more  than  five- 
and-thirty.  In  spite  of  private  reluctance  and  public  dis- 
content, I  have  honourably  dismissed  myself*  I  shall 
arrive  at  Sir  Joshua's  before  the  end  of  the  month :  he 
will  give  me  a  look,  and  perhaps  a  touch ;  and  you  will 
be  indebted  to  the  president  one  guinea  for  the  carriage. 
Do  not  be  nervous,  I  am  not  rolled  up  ;  had  I  been  so,  you 
might  have  gazed  on  my  charms  four  months  ago.  I 

*  His  portrait. 


274       NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


want  some  account  of  yourself,  of  my  lady,  (shall  we 
never  directly  correspond?)  of  Louisa,  and  of  Maria- 
How  has  the  latter  since  her  launch  supported  a  quiet 
winter  in  Sussex?    I  so  much  rejoice  in  your  divorce 

from  that  b  Kitty  Coventry,  that  I  care  not  what 

marriage  you  contract.  A  great  city  would  suit  your 
dignity,  and  the  duties  which  would  kill  me  in  the  first 
session,  would  supply  your  activity  with  a  constant  fund 
of  amusement.  But  tread  softly  and  surely ;  the  ice  is 
deceitful,  the  water  is  deep,  and  you  may  be  soused  over 
head  and  ears  before  you  are  aware.  Why  did  not  you 
orElmsly  send  me  the  African  pamphlet*  by  the  post?  it 
would  not  have  cost  much.  You  have  such  a  knack  of 
turning  a  nation,  that  I  am  afraid  you  will  triumph  (per- 
haps by  the  force  of  argument)  over  justice  and  huma- 
nity. But  do  you  not  expect  to  work  at  Beelzebub's 
sugar  plantations  in  the  infernal  regions,  under  the  tender 
government  of  a  negro  driver  ?  I  should  stippose  both 
my  lady  and  Miss  Firth  very  angry  with  you. 

As  to  the  bill  for  prints,  which  has  been  too  long 
neglected,  why  will  you  not  exercise  the  power,  which  I 
have  never  revoked,  over  all  my  cash  at  the  Goslings  ? 
The  Severy  family  has  passed  a  very  favourable  winter; 
the  young  man  is  impatient  to  hear  from  a  family  which 
he  places  above  all  others  :  yet  he  will  generously  write 
next  week,  and  send  you  a  drawivg  of  the  alterations  in 
the  house.  Do  not  raise  your  ideas ;  you  know  /  am 
satisfied  with  convenience  in  architecture,  and  some  ele- 
gance in  furniture.    I  admire  the  coolness  with  which 

*  Observations  on  the  project  for  abolishing  the  Slave  Trade,  by  Lord 
Sheffield. 


I 


NARRATIVE  CONTlNri:D  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD.  275 


you  ask  me  to  epistolize  Reynal  and  Elmsly,  as  if  a  letter 
were  so  easy  and  pleasant  a  task ;  it  appears  less  so  to 
me  every  day. 

1790. 

Your  indignation  will  melt  into  pity,  when  you  hear 
that  for  several  weeks  past  I  have  been  again  confined 
to  my  chamber  and  my  chair.  Yet  I  must  hasten,  gene- 
rously hasten,  to  exculpate  the  gout,  my  old  enemy,  from 
the  curses  which  you  already  pour  on  his  head.  He  is 
not  the  cause  of  this  disorder,  although  the  consequences 
have  been  somewhat  similar.  1  am  satisfied  that  this 
effort  of  nature  has  saved  me  from  a  very  dangerous,  per- 
haps a  fatal,  crisis ;  and  I  listen  to  the  flattering  hope 
that  it  may  tend  to  keep  the  gout  at  a  more  respectful 
distance,  &c.  &c.  &c. 

The  whole  sheet  has  been  filled  with  dry  selfish  busi- 
ness ;  but  I  must  and  will  reserve  some  lines  of  the  cover 
for  a  little  friendly  conversation.  I  passed  four  days  at 
the  castle  of  Coppet  with  Necker ;  and  could  have 
wished  to  have  shown  him,  as  a  warning  to  any  aspiring 
youth  possessed  with  the  demon  of  ambition.  With  all 
the  means  of  private  happiness  in  his  power,  he  is  the 
most  miserable  of  human  beings :  the  past,  the  present, 
and  the  future  are  equally  odious  to  him.  When  I  sug- 
gested some  domestic  amusement  of  books,  building,  &c. 
he  answered,  with  a  deep  tone  of  despair,  "  In  the  state 
in  which  I  now  am,  I  can  feel  only  the  blast  that  has 
overthrown  me."  How  different  from  the  careless  cheer- 
fulness with  which  our  poor  friend  Lord  North  supported 
his  fall !  Madame  Necker  maintains  more  external  com- 
posui^,  mais  h  diahk  rHy  perd  Hen.    It  is  true  that 


276 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD 


Necker  wished  to  be  carried  into  the  closet  Hke  old  Pitt, 
on  the  shoulders  of  the  people ;  and  that  he  has  been 
ruined  by  the  democracy  which  he  had  raised.  I  believe 
him  to  be  an  able  financier,  and  know  him  to  be  an 
honest  man ;  too  honest,  perhaps,  for  a  minister.  His 
rival  Colonne  has  passed  through  Lausanne,  in  his  way 
from  Turin ;  and  was  soon  followed  by  the  Prince  of 
Conde,  with  his  son  and  grandson ;  but  I  was  too  much 
indisposed  to  see  them.  They  have,  or  have  had,  some 
wild  projects  of  a  counter-revolution :  horses  have  been 
bought,  men  levied:  such  foolish  attempts  must  end  in  the 
ruin  of  the  party.  Burke's  book  is  a  most  admirable 
medicine  against  the  French  disease,  which  has  made  too 
much  progress  even  in  this  happy  country.  I  admire 
his  eloquence,  I  approve  his  politics,  I  adore  his  chivalry, 
and  I  can  forgive  even  his  superstition.  The  primitive 
church,  which  I  have  treated  with  some  freedom,  was  itself 
at  that  time  an  innovation,  and  I  was  attached  to  the  old 
pagan  establishment.  The  French  spread  so  many  lies 
about  the  sentiments  of  the  English  nation,  that  I  wish 
the  most  considerable  men  of  all  parties  and  descriptions 
would  join  in  some  public  act,  declaring  themselves  satis- 
fied and  resolved  to  support  our  present  constitution. 
Such  a  declaration  would  have  a  wonderful  effect  in 
Europe ;  and,  were  1  thought  worthy,  I  myself  would  be 
proud  to  subscribe  to  it.  I  have  a  great  mind  to  send 
you  something  of  a  sketch,  such  as  all  thinking  men 
might  adopt. 

I  have  intelligence  of  the  approach  of  my  Madeira.  I 
accept  with  equal  pleasure  the  second  pipe,  now  in  the 
torrid  zone.    Send  me  some  pleasant  details  of  your 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD.  277 


domestic  state,  of  Maria,  &c.  If  my  lady  thinks  that  my 
silence  is  a  mark  of  indifference,  my  lady  is  a  goose.  I 
must  have  you  all  at  Lausanne  next  summer. 

Lausanne,  August  7,  1790. 

I  answer  at  once  your  two  letters  ;  and  I  should  proba- 
bly have  taken  earlier  notice  of  the  first,  had  I  not  been 
in  daily  expectation  of  the  second.  I  must  begin  on  the 
subject  of  what  really  interests  me  the  most,  your  glo- 
rious election  for  Bristol.  Most  sincerely  do  I  congratu- 
late your  exchange  of  a  cursed  expensive  jilt,  who 
deserted  you  for  a  rich  Jew,  for  an  honourable  connexion 
with  a  chaste  and  virtuous  matron,  who  will  probably  be 
as  constant  as  she  is  disinterested.  In  the  whole  range 
of  election  from  Caithness  to  St.  Ives,  I  much  doubt  whe- 
ther there  be  a  single  choice  so  truly  honourable  to  the 
member  and  the  constituents.  The  second  commercial 
city  invites,  from  a  distant  province,  an  independent  gen- 
tleman, known  only  by  his  active  spirit,  and  his  writings 
on  the  subject  of  trade  ;  and  names  him,  without  intrigue 
or  expense,  for  her  representati\^e :  even,  the  voice  of 
party  is  silenced,  while  factions  strive  which  shall  applaud 
the  most. 

You  are  now  sure,  for  seven  years  to  come,  of  never 
wanting  food — I  mean  business  ;  what  a  crowd  of  suitors 
or  complainants  will  besiege  your  door !  what  a  load  of 
letters  and  memorials  will  be  heaped  on  your  table !  I 
much  question  whether  even  you  will  not  sometimes 
exclaim,  Ohe  !  jam  satis  est !  but  that  is  your  affair.  Of 
the  excursion  to  Coventry  I  cannot  decide,  but  I  hear  it 
is  pretty  generally  blamed :  but,  however,  I  love  grati- 


278 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


tude  to  an  old  friend ;  and  shall  not  be  very  angry  if  you 
d  d  them  with  a  farewell  to  all  eternity.  But  I  can- 
not repress  my  indignation  at  the  use  of  those  foolish,  ob- 
solete,  odious  words,  Whig  and  Tory.  In  the  American 
war  they  might  have  some  meaning ;  and  then  your  lord- 
ship was  a  Tory,  although  you  supposed  yourself  a  Whig: 
since  the  coalition  all  general  principles  have  been  con- 
founded, and  if  there  ever  was  an  opposition  to  men,  not 
measures,  it  is  the  present.  Luckily,  both  the  leaders  are 
great  men ;  and,  whatever  happens,  the  country  must 
fall  upon  its  legs.  What  a  strange  mist  of  peace  and  war 
seems  to  hang  over  the  ocean !  We  can  perceive  no- 
thing but  secrecy  and  vigour:  but  those  are  excellent 
qualities  in  a  minister.  From  yourself  and  politics  I  now 
return  to  my  private  concerns,  which  I  shall  methodi- 
cally consider  under  the  three  great  articles  of  mind, 
body,  and  estate. 

1.  I  am  not  absolutely  displeased  with  your  firing  so 
hastily  at  the  hint,  a  tremendous  hint,  in  my  last  letter. 
But  the  danger  is  not  so  serious  or  imminent  as  you  seem 
to  suspect ;  and  I  give  you  my  word,  that,  before  I  take 
the  slightest  step  which  can  bind  me  either  in  law,  con- 
science, or  honour,  I  will  faithfully  communicate,  and  we 
will  freely  discuss,  the  whole  state  of  the  business.  But 
at  present  there  is  not  any  thing  to  communicate  or  dis- 
cuss ;  I  do  assure  you  that  I  have  not  any  particular  object 
in  view :  I  am  not  in  love  with  any  of  the  hyaenas  of 
Lausanne,  though  there  are  some  who  keep  their  claws^ 
tolerably  well  pared.  Sometimes,  in  a  solitary  mood,  I 
have  fancied  myself  married  to  one  or  other  of  those 
whose  society  and  conversation  are  the  most  pleasing  to 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


279 


me ;  but  when  I  have  painted  in  my  fancy  all  the  proba- 
ble consequences  of  such  an  union,  I  have  started  from 
my  dream,  rejoiced  in  my  escape,  and  ejaculated  a  thanks- 
giving that  I  was  still  in  possession  of  my  natural  free- 
dom. Yet  I  feel,  and  shall  continue  to  feel,  that  domestic 
solitude,  however  it  may  be  alleviated  by  the  world,  by 
study,  and  even  by  friendship,  is  a  comfortless  state, 
which  will  grow  more  painful  as  I  descend  into  the  vale 
of  years.  At  present  my  situation  is  very  tolerable  ;  and 
if  at  dinner-time,  or  at  my  return  home  in  the  evening,  I 
sometimes  sigh  for  a  companion,  there  are  many  hours 
and  many  occasions,  in  which  I  enjoy  the  superior  bless- 
ing of  being  sole  master  of  my  own  house.  But  your 
plan,  though  less  dangerous,  is  still  more  absurd  than 
mine  :  such  a  couple  as  you  describe  could  not  be  found  ; 
and,  if  found,  would  not  answer  my  purpose  :  their  rank 
and  position  would  be  awkward  and  ambiguous  to  my- 
self and  my  acquaintance ;  and  the  agreement  of  three 
persons  of  three  characters  would  be  slill  more  impracti- 
cable. My  plan  of  Charlotte  Poi-ten  is  undoubtedly  the 
most  desirable  ;  and  she  might  either  remain  a  spinster 
(the  case  is  not  without  example,)  or  marry  some  Swiss 
of  my  choice,  who  would  increase  and  enliven  our 
society ;  and  both  would  have  the  strongest  motives  for 
kind  and  dutiful  behaviour.  But  the  mother  has  been 
indirectly  sounded ;  and  will  not  hear  of  such  a  proposal 
for  some  years.  On  my  side,  I  would  not  take  her,  but  as 
a  piece  of  soft  wax  which  I  could  model  to  the  language 
and  manners  of  the  country :  I  must  therefore  be  patient. 

Young  Severy's  letter,  which  may  be  now  in  your 
hands,  and  which,  for  these  three  or  four  last  posts,  has 


280      NATfRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD 


furnished  my  indolence  with  a  new  pretence  for  delay, 
has  already  informed  you  of  the  means  and  circumstances 
of  my  resurrection,  Tedious  indeed  was  my  confine- 
ment, since  I  was  not  able  to  move  from  my  house  or 
chair,  from  the  ninth  of  February  to  the  first  of  July,  very 
nearly  five  months.  The  first  weeks  were  accompanied 
with  more  pain  than  I  have  ever  known  in  the  gout,  with 
anxious  days  and  sleepless  nights ;  and  when  that  pain 
subsided,  it  left  a  weakness  in  my  knees  which  seemed 
to  have  no  end-  My  confinement  was  however  softened 
by  books,  by  the  possession  of  every  comfort  and  con- 
venience, by  a  succession  each  evening  of  agreeable  com- 
pany, and  by  a  flow  of  equal  spirits  and  general  good 
health.  During  the  last  weeks  I  descended  to  the  ground 
floor,  poor  Deyverdun's  apartment,  and  constructed  a 
chair  like  Merlin's,  in  which  1  could  wheel  myself  in  the 
house  and  on  the  terrace.  My  patience  has  been  univer- 
sally admired  ;  yet  how  many  thousands  have  passed 
those  five  months  less  easily  than  myself  I  remember 
making  a. remark  perfectly  simple,  and  perfectly  true: 
"  At  present,"  I  said  to  Madame  de  Severy,  "I  am  not 
positively  miserable,  and  I  may  reasonably  hope  a  daily 
or  weekly  improvement,  till  sooner  or  later  in  the  sum- 
mer I  shall  recover  new  limbs,  and  new  pleasures,  which 
I  do  not  now  possess  ;  have  any  of  you  such  a  prospect?" 
The  prediction  has  been  accomplished,  and  I  have  ar- 
rived to  my  present  condition  of  strength,  or  rather  of 
feebleness :  I  now  can  walk  with  tolerable  ease  in  my 
garden  and  smooth  places ;  but  on  the  rough  pavement 
of  the  town  I  use,  and  perhaps  shall  use,  a  sedan  chair. 
The  Pyrmont  waters  have  performed  wonders ;  and  my 


NARRATIVE  COiNTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD.  281 


physician  (not  Tissot,  but  a  very  sensible  man)  allows  me 
to  hope,  that  the  term  of  the  interval  will  be  in  propor- 
tion to  that  of  the  fit. 

Have  you  read  in  the  English  papers  that  the  govern- 
ment of  Berne  is  overturned,  and  that  we  are  divided 
into  three  democratical  leagues?  true  as  what  I  have 
read  in  the  French  papers,  that  the  English  have  cut  off 
Pitt's  head,  and  abolished  the  House  of  Lords.  The  peo- 
ple of  this  country  are  happy ;  and  in  spite  of  some  mis- 
creants, and  more  foreign  emissaries,  they  ai-e  sensible  of 
their  happiness. 

Finally — Inform  my  lady,  that  I  am  indignant  at  a 
false  and  heretical  assertion  in  her  last  letter  to  Severy, 
"  that  friends  at  a  distance  cannot  love  each  other  if  they 
do  not  write."  I  love  her  better  than  any  woman  in  the 
world ;  indeed  I  do ;  and  yet  I  do  not  write.  And  she 
herself — but  I  am  calm.  We  have  now  nearly  one  hun- 
dred French  exiles,  some  of  them  worth  being  acquainted 
with ;  particularly  a  Count  de  Schomberg,  who  is  become 
almost  my  friend ;  he  is  a  man  of  the  world,  of  letters, 
and  of  sufficient  age,  since  in  1753  he  succeeded  to  Mar- 
shal Saxe's  regiment  of  dragoons.  As  to  the  rest,  I  enter- 
tain them,  and  they  flatter  me  :  but  I  wish  we  were 
reduced  to  our  Lausanne  Society.  Poor  France !  the 
state  is  dissolved,  the  nation  is  mad  !  Adieu. 

Lausanne,  April  9tb,  1791. 

First,  of  my  health ;  it  is  now  tolerably  restored :  my 
legs  are  still  weak,  but  the  animal  in  general  is  in  sound 
and  lively  condition  ;  and  we  have  great  hopes  from  the 
fine  weather  and  the  Pyrmont  waters.    I  most  sincerely 


282 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


wished  for  the  presence  of  Maria,  to  embelhsh  a  ball 
which  I  gave  the  29th  of  last  month  to  all  the  best  com- 
pany, natives  and  foreigners,  of  Lausanne,  with  the  aid  of 
the  Severys,  especially  of  the  mother  and  son,  who 
directed  the  oeconomy,  and  performed  the  honours  of  the 
fete.  It  opened  about  seven  in  the  evening ;  the  assem- 
bly of  men  and  women  was  pleased  and  pleasing,  the 
music  good,  the  illumination  splendid,  the  refreshments 
profuse :  at  twelve,  one  hundred  and  thirty  persons  sat 
down  to  a  very  good  supper ;  at  two,  I  stole  away  to 
bed,  in  a  snug  corner  ;  and  I  was  informed  at  breakfast, 
that  the  remains  of  the  veteran  and  young  troops,  with 
Severy  and  his  sister  at  their  head,  had  concluded  the 
last  dance  about  a  quarter  before  seven.  This  magnifi- 
cent entertainment  has  gained  me  great  credit ;  and  the 
expense  was  more  reasonable  than  you  can  easily 
imagine.  This  was  an  extraordinary  event,  but  I  give 
frequent  dinners ;  and  in  the  summer  I  have  an  assembly 
every  Sunday  evening.  What  a  wicked  wretch !  says 
my  lady. 

I  cannot  pity  you  for  the  accumulation  of  business,  as 
you  ought  not  to  pity  me,  if  I  complained  of  tranquility  of 
Lausanne :  we  suffer  or  enjoy  the  effects  of  our  own 
choice.  Perhaps  you  will  mutter  something  of  our  not 
being  born  for  ourselves,  of  public  spirit  (I  have  for- 
merly read  of  such  a  thing),  of  private  friendship,  for 
which  I  give  you  full  and  ample  credit,  &c.  But  your 
parliamentary  operations,  at  least,  will  probably  expire  in 
the  month  of  June ;  and  I  shall  refuse  to  sign  the  New- 
haven  conveyance,  unless  I  am  satisfied  that  you  will 
execute  the  Lausanne  visit  this  summer.    On  the  15th  of 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD.  283 


June,  suppose  lord,  lady,  Maria,  and  maid,  (poor  Louisa!) 
in  a  post  coach,  with  Etienne  on  horseback,  set  out  from 
Downing-street,  or  Sheffield-place,  cross  the  channel  from 
Brighton  to  Dieppe,  visit  the  national  assembly,  buy  caps 
at  Paris,  examine  the  ruins  of  Versailles,  and  arrive  at 
Lausanne,  without  danger  or  fatigue,  the  second  week  in 
July  ;  you  will  be  lodged  pleasantly  and  comfortably,  and 
will  not  perhaps  despise  my  situation.  A  couple  of 
months  will  roll,  alas  !  too  hastily  away :  you  will  all  be 
amused  by  new  scenes,  new  people ;  and  whenever 
Maria  and  you,  with  Severy,  mount  on  horseback  to  visit 
the  country,  the  glaciers,  &c.,  my  lady  and  myself  shall 
form  a  very  quiet  tcte-a-tfite  at  home.  In  September,  if 
you  are  tired,  you  may  return  by  a  direct  or  indirect 
way ;  but  I  only  desire  that  you  will  not  make  the  plan 
impracticable  by  grasping  at  too  much.  In  return,  I  pro- 
mise you  a  visit  of  three  or  four  months  in  the  autumn  of 
ninety-two :  you  and  my  booksellers  are  now  my  princi- 
pal attractions  in  England,  You  had  some  right  to 
growl  at  hearing  of  my  supplement  in  the  papers  :  but 
Cadell's  indiscretion  was  founded  on  a  hint  which  I  had 
thrown  out  in  a  letter,  and  which  in  all  probability 
will  never  be  executed.  Yet  I  am  not  totally  idle. 
Adieu. 

Lausanne,  May  18th,  1791. 

I  write  a  short  letter,  on  small  paper,  to  inform  you, 
tTiat  the  various  deeds,  which  arrived  safe  and  in  good 
condition,  have  this  morning  been  sealed,  signed,  and 
delivered,  in  the  presence  of  respectable  and  well  known 
English  witnesses.    To  have  read  the  aforesaid  acts, 


•284        NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  EY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


would  have  been  difficult ;  to  have  understood  them,  im- 
practicable. I  therefore  signed  them  with  my  eyes  shut, 
and  in  that  implicit  confidence,  which  we  freemen  and 
Britons  are  humbly  content  to  yield  to  our  lawyers  and 
ministers.  I  hope,  however,  most  seriously  hope,  that 
every  thing  has  been  carefully  examined,  and  that  I  am 
not  totally  ruined.  It  is  not  without  much  impatience 
that  I  expect  an  account  of  the  payment  and  investment 
of  the  purchase-money.  It  was  my  intention  to  have 
added  a  new  edition  of  my  will :  but  I  have  an  unexpected 
call  to  go  to  Geneva  to-morrow  with  the  Severys,  and 
must  defer  that  business  a  few  days,  till  after  my  return. 
On  my  return  I  may  possibly  find  a  letter  from  you,  and 
will  write  more  fully  in  answer :  my  posthumous  work, 
contained  in  a  single  sheet,  will  not  ruin  you  in  postage. 
In  the  meanwhile,  let  me  desire  you  either  never  to 
talk  of  Lausanne,  or  to  execute  the  journey  this  summer ; 
after  the  despatch  of  public  and  private  business,  there 
ean  be  no  real  obstacle  but  in  yourself  Pray  do  not  go 
to  war  with  Russia :  it  is  very  foolish :  I  am  quite  angry 
with  Pitt.  Adieu. 

Lausanne,  May  Slst,  1791. 
At  length  I  see  a  ray  of  sunshine  breaking  from  a  dark 
cloud.  Your  epistle  of  the  13th  arrived  this  morning, 
the  25th  instant,  the  day  after  my  return  from  Geneva; 
it  has  been  communicated  to  Severy.  We  now  believe 
that  you  intend  to  visit  Lausanne  this  summer,  and  we 
hope  that  you  will  execute  that  intention.  If  you  are  a 
man  of  honour,  you  shall  find  me  one  ;  and,  on  the  day 
of  your  arrival  at  Lausanne,  I  will  ratify  my  engagement 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFblELD.  285 


of  visiting  the  British  isle  before  the  end  of  the  year  1792, 
excepting  only  the  fair  and  foul  exception  of  the  gout. 
You  rejoice  me,  by  proposing  the  addition  of  dear 
Louisa;  it  was  not  without  a  bitter  pang  that  I  threw 
her  overboard,  to  lighten  the  vessel  and  secure  the  vo- 
yage :  I  was  fearful  of  the  governess,  a  second  carriage, 
and  a  long  train  of  difficulty  and  expense,  which  might 
have  ended  in  blowing  up  the  whole  scheme.  But  if 
you  can  bodkin  the  sweet  creature  into  the  coach,  she 
will  find  an  easy  welcome  at  Lausanne.  The  first 
arrangements  which  I  must  make  before  your  arrival, 
may  be  altered  by  your  own  taste,  on  a  survey  of  the 
premises,  and  you  will  all  be  commodiously  and  pleasant- 
ly lodged.  You  have  heard  a  great  deal  of  the  beauty 
of  my  house,  garden,  and  situation :  but  such  are  their 
intrinsic  value,  that,  unless  I  am  much  deceived,  they 
will  bear  the  test  even  of  exaggerated  praise.  From  my 
knowledge  of  your  lordship,  I  have  always  entertained 
some  doubt  how  you  would  get  through  the  society  of  a 
Lausanne  winter :  but  I  am  satisfied  tliat,  exclusive  of 
friendship,  your  summer  visits  to  the  banks  of  the  Leman 
Lake  will  long  be  remembered  as  one  of  the  most  agree- 
able periods  of  your  life  ;  and  that  you  will  scarcely  re- 
gret the  amusement  of  a  Sussex  committee  of  navigation 
in  the  dog  days.  You  ask  for  details:  what  details?  a 
map  of  France  and  a  post-book  are  easy  and  infallible 
guides.  If  the  ladies  are  not  afraid  of  the  ocean,  you 
are  not  ignorant  of  the  passage  from  Brighton  to  Dieppe  : 
Paris  will  then  be  in  your  direct  road  ;  and  even  allow- 
ing you  to  look  at  the  Pandsemonium,  the  ruins  of  Ver- 
sailles, &c.,  a  fortnight  diligently  employed  will  clear 


aS6       NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFF[ELD. 


you  from  Sheffield-Place  to  Gibbon  Castle.  What  can 
I  say  more  1 

As  little  have  I  to  say  on  the  subject  of  my  worldly 
matters,  which  seems  now,  Jupiter  be  praised,  to  be  draw- 
ing to  a  final  conclusion ;  since,  when  people  part  with 
their  money,  they  are  indeed  serious.  I  do  not  perfectly 
understand  the  ratio  of  the  precise  sum  which  you  have 
poured  into  Gosling's  reservoii',  but  suppose  it  will  be 
explained  in  a  general  account. 

You  have  been  very  dutiful  in  sending  me,  what  I 
have  always  desired,  a  cut  Woodfall  on  a  remarka- 
ble debate ;  a  debate,  indeed,  most  remarkable  !  Poor 
****  is  the  most  eloquent  and  rational  madman  that  I 
ever  knew.  I  love  Fox's  feelings,  but  I  detest  the  politi- 
cal principles  of  the  man,  and  of  the  party.  Formerly 
you  detested  them  more  strongly,  during  the  American 
war,  than  myself.  I  am  half  afraid  that  you  are  corrupted 
by  your  unfortunate  connexions.  Should  you  admire 
the  national  assembly,  we  shall  have  many  an  altercation, 
for  I  am  as  high  an  aristocrat  as  Burke  himself;  and 
he  has  truly  observed,  that  it  is  impossible  to  debate  with 
temper  cn  the  subject  of  that  cursed  revolution.  In  my 
last  excursion  to  Geneva  I  frequently  saw  the  Neckers, 
who  by  this  time  are  returned  to  their  summer  residence 
at  Coppet.  He  is  much  restored  in  hcaltK  and  spirits, 
especially  since  the  publication  of  his  last  book,  which  has 
probably  reached  England.  Both  parties  who  agree  in 
abusing  him,  agree  likewise  that  he  is  a  man  of  virtue 
andgenuis:  but  I  much  fear  that  the  purest  intentions 
have  been  productive  of  the  most  baneful  consequences. 
Our  military  men,  I  mean  the  French,  arc  leaving  us 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD.  287 


every  day  for  the  camp  of  the  Princes  at  Worms,  and 

support  what  is  called   —  representation.  Their 

hopes  are  sanguine ;  I  will  not  answer  for  their  being 
well  grounded :  it  is  certain,  however,  that  the  emperor 
had  an  interview  the  19th  instant  with  the  Count  of 
Artois  at  Mantua :  and  the  aristocrats  talk  in  mysterious 
language  of  Spain,  Sardinia,  the  empire,  four  or  five 
armies,  &c.  They  will  doubtless  strike  a  blow  this 
summer  :  may  it  not  recoil  on  their  own  heads  !  Adieu. 
Embrace  our  female  travellers.    A  short  delay. 

Lausanne,  June  12th,  1791. 

1  now  begin  to  see  you  all  in  real  motion,  swimming 
from  Brighton  to  Dieppe,  according  to  my  scheme,  and 
afterwards  treading  the  direct  road  which  you  cannot 
well  avoid,  to  the  turbulent  capital  of  the  late  kingdom 
of  France.  I  know  not  what  more  to  say,  or  what  fur- 
ther instructions  to  send  ;  they  would  indeed  be  useless, 
as  you  are  travelling  through  a  country  which  has  been 
sometimes  visited  by  Englishmen:  only  this  let  me  say, 
that,  in  the  midst  of  anarchy,  the  roads  were  never  more 
secure  than  at  present.  As  you  will  wish  to  assist  at 
the  national  assembly,  you  will  act  prudently  in  obtain- 
ing from  the  French  in  London  a  good  recommendation 
to  some  leading  member ;  Cazales,  for  instance,  or  the 
Abbe  Maury.  I  soon  expect  from  Elmsly  a  cargo  of 
books ;  but  you  may  bring  me  any  new  pamphlet  of 
exquisite  flavour,  particularly  the  last  works  of  John 
Lord  Sheffield,*  which  the  dog  has  always  neglected  to 

*  Observations  on  the  Corn  Laws. 


1288       NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


send.  You  will  have  time  to  write  once  more,  and  you 
must  endeavour,  as  nearly  as  possible,  to  mark  the  day 
of  your  arrival.  You  may  come  either  by  Lyons  and 
Geneva,  by  Dijon  and  Les  Rousses,  or  by  Dole  and  Pon- 
tarliere.  The  post  will  fail  you  on  the  edge  of  Swltzer- 
land,  and  must  be  supphed  by  hired  horses.  I  wish  you 
to  make  your  last  day's  journey  easy,  so  as  to  dine  upon 
the  road,  and  arrive  by  tea-time.  The  pulse  of  the  coun- 
ter revolution  beats-high,  but  I  cannot  send  you  any  cer- 
tain facts.  Adieu.  I  want  to  hear  my  lady  abusing 
me  for  never  writing.  All  the  Severys  are  very  im- 
patient. 

Notwitstanding  the  high  premium,  I  do  not  absolutely 
wish  you  drowned.  Besides  all  other  cares,  T  must  marry 
and  propagate,  which  would  give  me  a  great  deal  of 
trouble. 

Lausanne,  July  1st,  1791. 

In  obedience  to  your  orders,  I  direct  a  flying  shot  to 
Paris,  though  1  have  not  any  thing  particular  to  add,  ex- 
cepting our  impatience  is  increased  in  the  inverse  ratio 
of  time  and  space.  Yet  I  almost  doubt  whether  you 
have  passed  the  sea.  The  news  of  the  king  of  France's 
escape  must  have  reached  you  before  the  28th,  the  day 
of  your  departure,  and  the  prospect  of  strange  unknown 
disorder  may  well  have  suspended  your  firmest  resolves. 
The  royal  animal  is  again  caught,  and  all  may  probably 
be  quiet.  I  was  just  going  to  exhort  you  to  pass  through 
Brussels  and  the  confines  of  Germany ;  a  fair  Irishism, 
since  if  you  read  this,  you  are  already  at  Paris.  Tlie 
only  reasonable  advice  which  now  remains,  is  to  obtain, 
by  means  of  Lord  Gower,  a  sufficiency,  or  even  super- 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


289 


fluity,  of  forcible  passports,  such  as  leave  no  room  for 
cavil  on  a  jealous  frontier.  The  frequent  inter- 
course with  Paris  has  proved  that  the  best  and  short- 
est road,  instead  of  Besangon,  is  by  Dijon,  Dole,  Les 
Rousses,  and  Nyon.  Adieu.  I  warmly  embrace  the 
ladies.    It  would  be  idle  now  to  talk  of  business. 


It  has  appeared  from  the  foregoing  letters,  that  a  visit 
from  myself  and  family,  to  Mr.  Gibbon  at  Lausanne,  had 
been  for  some  time  in  agitation.  This  long-promised  ex- 
cursion took  place  in  the  month  of  June  1791,  and  oc- 
casioned a  considerable  cessation  of  our  correspondence. 
I  landed  at  Dieppe  immediately  after  the  flight  from,  and 
return  to,  Paris  of  the  unfortunate  Louis  XVI.  During 
my  stay  in  that  capital,  I  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
the  extraordinary  ferment  of  men's  minds,  both  in  the 
national  assembly,  and  in  private  societies,  and  also  in 
my  passage  through  France  to  Lausanne,  where  I  recalled 
to  my  memoi  y  the  interesting  scenes  I  had  witnessed,  by 
frequent  conversations  with  my  deceased  friend.  1  might 
have  wished  to  record  his  opinions  on  the  subject  of 
the  French  Revolution,  if  he  had  not  expressed  therri  so 
well  in  the  annexed  letters.  He  seemed  to  suppose,  as 
some  of  his  letters  hint,  that  I  had  a  tendency  to  the  new 
French  opinions.  Never,  indeed,  I  can  with  truth  aver, 
was  suspicion  more  unfounded ;  nor  could  it  have  been 
admitted  into  Mr.  Gibbon's  mind,  but  that  his  extreme 
friendship  for  me,  and  his  utter  abhorrence  of  these  no- 
tions, made  him  anxious  and  even  jealous,  even  to  an 


290        NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


excess  that  I  should  not  entertaui  them.  He  was,  how- 
ever, soon  undeceived ;  he  found  that  1  was  as  averse  to 
them  as  himself.  I  had  from  the  first  expressed  an 
opinion,  that  such  a  change  as  was  aimed  at  in  France, 
must  derange  all  the  regular  governments  in  Europe, 
hazard  the  internal  quiet  and  dearest  interests  of  this 
country,  and  probably  end  in  bringing  on  mankind  a 
much  greater  portion  of  misery,  than  the  most  sanguine 
reformer  had  ever  promised  to  himself  or  others  to  pro- 
duce of  benefit,  by  the  visionary  schemes  of  liberty  and 
equality,  with  which  the  ignorant  and  vulgar  were 
misled  and  abused. 

Mr.  Gibbon,  at  first,  like  many  others,  seemed  pleased 
with  the  prospect  of  the  reform  of  inveterate  abuses ;  but 
he  very  soon  discovered  the  mischief  which  was  intended, 
the  imbecility  with  which  concessions  were  made,  and 
the  ruin  that  must  arise  from  the  want  of  resolution  or 
conduct,  in  the  administration  of  France.  He  jived  to 
reprobate,  in  the  strongest  terms  possible,  the  folly  of  the 
first  reformers,  and  the  something  worse  than  the  extra- 
vagance and  ferocity  of  their  successors.  He  saw  the 
wild  and  mischievous  tendency  of  those  reformers,  which, 
while  they  professed  nothing  but  amendment,  really 
meant  destruction  to  all  social  order ;  and  so  strongly 
was  his  opinion  fixed,  as  to  the  danger  of  hasty  inno- 
vation, that  he  became  a  warm  and  zealous  advocate  for 
every  sort  of  old  establishment,  which  he  marked  in 
various  ways,  sometimes  rather  ludicrously ;  and  I 
recollect,  in  a  circle  where  French  affairs  were  the  topic, 
and  some  Portuguese  present,  he,  seemingly  with  serious- 
ness, argued  in  favour  of  the  inquisition  at  Lisbon,  and 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD.  291 


said  he  would  not,  at  the  present  moment,  give  up  even 
that  old  establishment. 

It  may,  perhaps,  not  be  quite  uninteresting  to  the 
readers  of  these  Memoirs,  to  know  that  I  found  Mr.  Gib- 
bon at  Lausanne  in  possession  of  an  excellent  house ;  the 
view  from  which,  and  from  the  terrace,  was  so  uncom- 
monly beautiful,  that  even  his  own  pen  would  with  dif- 
ficulty describe  the  scene  which  it  commanded.  This 
prospect  comprehended  every  thing  grand  and  magnifi- 
cent, which  could  be  furnished  by  the  finest  mountains 
among  the  Alps,  the  most  extensive  view  of  the  Lake  of 
Geneva,  with  a  beautifully  varied  and  cultivated  country, 
adorned  by  numerous  villas,  and  picturesque  buildings, 
intermixed  with  beautiful  masses  of  stately  trees.  Here 
my  friend  received  us  With  an  hospitality  and  kindness 
which  I  can  never  forget.  The  best  apartments  of  the 
house  were  appropriated  to  our  use ;  the  choicest  society 
of  the  place  was  sought  for,  to  enliven  our  visit,  and  to 
render  every  day  of  it  cheerful  and  agreeable.  It  was 
impossible  for  any  man  to  be  more  esteemed  and  admired 
than  Mr.  Gibbon  was  at  Lausanne.  The  preference  he 
had  given  to  that  place  in  adopting  it  for  a  residence, 
rather  than  his  own  country,  was  felt  and  acknowledged 
by  all  the  inhabitants ;  and  he  may  have  been  said 
almost  to  have  given  the  law  to  a  set  of  as  willing  sub- 
jects as  any  man  ever  presided  over.  In  return  for  the 
deference  shown  to  him,  he  mixed,  without  any  affecta- 
tion, in  all  the  society.  I  mean  all  the  best  society  that 
Lausanne  afforded ;  he  could  indeed  command  it,  and 
was,  perhaps,  for  that  reason  the  more  partial  to  it ;  for 
he  often  declared  that  he  liked  society  more  as  a  relaxa- 


292        NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 


tion  from  study,  than  as  expecting  to  derive  from  it 
amusement  or  instruction ;  that  to  books  he  looked  for 
improvement,  not  to  living  persons.  But  this  I  con- 
sidered partly  as  an  answer  to  my  expressions  of  won- 
der, that  a  man  who  might  choose  the  most  various  and 
the_.  most  generally  improved  society  in  the  world — 
namely,  in  England — should  prefer  the  very  limited  circle 
of  Lausanne,  which  he  never  deserted,  but  for  an  occa- 
sional visit  to  M.  and  Madame  Necker.  It  must  not, 
however,  be  understood,  that  in  choosing  Lausanne  for 
his  home,  he  was  insensible  to  the  merits  of  a  residence 
in  England :  he  was  not  in  possession  of  an  income 
which  corresponded  with  his  notions  of  ease  and  comfort 
in  his  own  country.  In  Switzerland  his  fortune  was 
ample.  To  this  consideration  of  fortune  may  be  added 
another,  which  also  had  its  weight ;  from  early  youth  Mr. 
Gibbon  had  contracted  a  partiality  for  foreign  taste  and 
foreign  habits  of  life,  which  made  him  less  a  stranger 
abroad  than  he  was,  in  some  respects,  in  his  native  coun- 
try. This  arose,  perhaps,  from  having  been  out  of  Eng- 
land from  his  sixteenth  to  his  twenty-first  year  ;  yet  when 
I  came  to  Lausanne,  I  found  him  apparently  without 
relish  for  French  society.  During  the  stay  I  made  with 
him  he  renewed  his  intercourse  with  the  principal  French 
who  were  at  Lausanne  ;  of  whom  there  happened  to  be 
a  considerable  number,  distinguished  for  rank  or  talents : 
many  indeed  respectable  for  both.*    During  my  stay  in 

*  Marshal  de  Casd-ies  and  several  branches  of  his  family,  Due  de  Guignes 
and  daughters,  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Giiiche,  Madame  de  Grammont, 
Princesse  d'Henin,  Princesse  de  Bouillon,  Duchesse  de  Biron,  Prince  de 
Salm,  Compte  de  Schomberg,  Count  de  Lally,  Lally  ToleudaJ,  RI_ 
Mounier,  Madame  d'Aguesseau  and  family,  M.  de  Malsherbes,  &c.  &c. 


NARRATIVE  CONTINUED  BY  LORD  SHEFFIELD.  293 


Switzerland,  I  was  not  absent  from  my  friend's  house, 
except  during  a  short  excursion  that  we  made  together  to 
Mr.  Necker's  at  Coppet,  and  a  tour  to  Geneva,  Chamouni^ 
over  the  Col  de  Balme,  to  Martigny,  St.  Maurice,  and 
round  the  Lake  by  Vevay  to  Lausanne.  In  the  social 
and  singularly  pleasant  months  that  I  passed  with  Mr, 
Gibbon,  he  enjoyed  his  cheerfulness,  with  good  health. 
Since  he  left  England,  in  1788,  he  had  a  severe  attack, 
mentioned  in  one  of  the  foregoing  letters,  of  an  erisipelas, 
which  at  last  settled  in  one  of  his  legs,  and  left  something 
of  a  dropsical  tendency  ;  for  at  this  time  I  first  perceived 
a  considerable  degree  of  swelling  about  the  ancle. 

In  the  beginning  of  October  I  left  this  delightful  resi- 
dence ;  and  some  time  after  my  return  to  England,  oui' 
correspondence  recommenced. 


LETTERS 


FROM 


ED¥  AED  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


LOED  SHEFFIELD  AM  OTHEES. 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ.  TO  LORD 
SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


EDWAED  GIBBON,  ESQ.  TO  THE  HON.  MISS  HOLROYD. 

Lausanne,  Nov.  9th,  1791. 

Gulliver  is  made  to  say,  in  presenting  his  interpreter, 
"  My  tongue  is  in  the  mouth  of  my  friend."  Allow  me 
to  say,  with  proper  expressions  and  excuses,  "  My  pen  is 
in  the  hand  of  my  friend ;"  and  the  aforesaid  friend  begs 
leave  thus  to  continue.* 

I  remember  to  have  read  somewhere  in  Rousseau,  of  a 
lover  quitting  very  often  his  mistress,  to  have  the  plea- 
sure of  corresponding  with  her.  Though  not  absolutely 
your  lover,  I  am  very  much  your  admirer,  and  should  be 
extremely  tempted  to  follow  the  same  example.  The 
spirit  and  reason  which  prevail  in  your  conversation,  ap- 
pear to  great  advantage  in  your  letters.  The  three 
which  I  have  received  from  Berne,  Coblentz,  and  Brussels 
have  given  me  much  real  pleasure  :  first,  as  a  proof  that 
you  are  often  thinking  of  me ;  secondly,  as  an  evidence 
that  you  are  capable  of  keeping  a  resolution ;  and 
thirdly,  from  their  own  intrinsic  merit  and  entertainment. 
The  style,  without  any  allowance  for  haste  or  hurry,  is 
perfectly  correct ;  the  manner  is  neither  too  light  nor  too 

*  The  remainder  of  the  letter  was  dictated  by  Mr.  Gibbon,  and  written 
b>-  M.  Wilh.  de  Severy.— S. 


298 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


grave ;  the  dimensions  neither  too  long  nor  too  short ; 
they  are  such,  in  a  word,  as  I  should  like  to  receive  from 
the  daughter  of  my  best  friend.  I  attend  your  lively 
journal,  through  bad  roads  and  worse  inns.  Your 
description  o^  men  and  manners  conveys  very  satisfactory 
information ;  and  I  am  particularly  delighted  with  your 
remark  concerning  the  irregular  behaviour  of  the  Rhine. 
But  the  Rhine,  alas  !  after  some  temporary  wanderings, 
will  be  content  to  flow  in  his  old  channel,  while  man — 
man  is  the  greatest  fool  of  the  whole  creation. 

I  direct  this  letter  to  Sheffield-place,  where  I  suppose 
you  arrived  in  health  and  safety.  I  congratulate  my 
lady  on  her  quiet  establishment  by  her  fireside  ;  and  hope 
you  will  be  able,  after  all  your  excursions,  to  support  the 
climate  and  manners  of  old  England.  Before  this  epistle 
reaches  you,  I  hope  to  have  received  the  two  promised 
letters  from  Dover  and  Sheffield-place.  If  they  should 
not  meet  with  a  proper  return,  you  will  pity  and  forgive 
me.  I  have  not  yet  heard  from  Lord  Sheffield,  who  seems 
to  have  devolved  on  his  daughter  the  task  which  she  has 
sogloriously  executed.  I  shall  probably  not  write  to  him, 
till  1  have  received  his  first  letter  of  business  from  Eng- 
land ;  but  with  regard  to  my  lady  I  have  most  excellent 
intentions. 

I  never  could  understand  how  two  persons  of  such 
superior  merit,  as  Miss  Holroyd  and  Miss  Lausanne, 
could  have  so  little  relish  for  one  another,  as  they 
appeared  to  have  in  the  beginning ;  and  it  was  with 
great  pleasure  that  I  observed  the  degrees  of  their  grow- 
ing intimacy,  and  the  mutual  regret  of  their  separation. 
Whatever  you  may  imagine,  your  friends  at  Lausanne 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHEBS. 


299 


have  been  thiaking  as  frequently  of  yourself  and  com- 
pany, as  you  could  possibly  think  of  them;  and  you  will 
be  very  ungrateful  if  you  do  not  seriously  resolve  to 
make  them  a  second  visit  under  such  name  and  title  as 
you  may  judge  most  agreeable.    None  of  the  Severy 
family,  except  perhaps  my  secretary,  are  inclined  to  for- 
get you  ;  and  I  am  continually  asked  for  some  account  of 
your  health,  motions  and  amusements.     Since  your 
departure,  no  great  events  have  occurred.    I  have  made 
a  short  excursion  to  Geneva  and  Coppet,  and  found  M. 
Necker  in  much  better  spirits  than  when  you  saw  him. 
They  pressed  me  to  pass  some  weeks  this  winter  in 
their  house  at  Geneva ;  and  I  may  possibly  comply,  at 
least  in  part,  with  their  invitation.    The  aspect  of  Lau- 
sanne is  peaceful  and  placid ;  and  you  have  no  hopes  of 
a  revolution  driving  me  out  of  this  country.    We  hear 
nothing  of  the  proceedings  of  the  commission,*  except 
by  playing  at  cards  every  evening   with  Monsieur 
Fischer,  who  often  speaks  of  Lord  Sheffield  with  esteem 
and  respect.    There  is  no  appearance  of  Rosset  and  La 

*  A  commission  at  the  head  of  which  was  Monsieor  Fischer,  one  of  the 
principal  members  of  the  government  of  Berne,  a  very  active  and  intelli- 
gent man,  who  would  have  distinguished  himself  in  the  administration  of 
any  country.  This  commission,  which  was  accompanied  by  two  or  three 
thousand  of  the  best  of  the  German  militia  of  the  canton  of  Berne,  was  sent 
for  the  purpose  of  examining  into  some  attempts  to  introduce  the  French 
revolutionary  principles  into  the  Pays  de  Vaud.  Several  persons  were 
seized  ;  the  greater  part  were  released  ;  the  examination  was  secret,  but 
Rosset  and  La  Motte  were  confined  in  the  Castle  of  Chillon  ;  and  being 
afterwards  condemned,  for  correspondence  with  the  French,  to  a  long  im- 
prisonment, were  transferred  to  the  castle  of  Arbourg,  from  whence  they 
escaped. 


300  LETTEBS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 

Motte  being  brought  to  a  speedy  trial,  and  they  still  re- 
main in  the  castle  of  Chillon,  which  (according  to  the 
geography  of  the  national  assembly)  is  washed  by  the 
sea.  Our  winter  begins  with  great  severity ;  and  we 
shall  not  probably  have  many  balls,  which,  as  you  may 
imagine,  I  lament  much.  Angletine  does  not  consider 
two  French  words  as  a  letter.  Montrond  sighs  and 
blushes  whenever  Louisa's  name  is  mentioned:  Phillip- 
pine  wishes  to  converse  with  her  on  men  and  manners. 
The  French  ladies  are  settled  in  town  for  the  winter,  and. 
they  form,  with  Mrs.  Trevor,  a  veiy  agreeable  addition 
to  our  society.  It  is  now  enlivened  by  a  visit  of  the 
Chevalier  de  Boufflers,  one  of  the  most  accomplished  men 
of  the  ci-devant  kingdom  of  France. 

As  Mrs.  Wood,*  who  has  miscarried,  is  about  to  leave 
us,  I  must  either  cure  or  die ;  and,  upon  the  whole,  I 
believe  the  former  will  be  most  expedient.  You  will  see 
her  in  London,  with  dear  Corea,  next  winter.  My  rival 
magnificently  presents  me  with  a  hogshead  of  Madeira  ; 
so  that  in  honour  I  could  not  supplant  him  :  yet  I  do 
assure  you,  from  my  heart,  that  another  departure  is 
much  more  painful  to  me.  The  apartmentf  below  is  shut 
up,  and  I  know  not  when  I  shall  again  visit  it  with  pleasure. 
Adieu.    Believe  me,  one  and  all,  most  affectionately  yours. 

EDWAED  GIBBON,  ESa.  TO  TflE  RIGHT  HON.  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 

Lausanne,  December  2S,  1791. 

Alas !  alas !  the  demon  of  procrastination  has  again 
possessed  me.    Three  months  have  nearly  rolled  away 

*  Madame  de  Silva. 

t  The  apartment  principally  inhabited  daring  the  residence  of  my  family 
at  Lausanne. — S. 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


301 


since  your  departure;  and  seven  letters,  five  from  the 
most  valuable  Maria,  and  two  from  yourself,  have 
extorted  from  me  only  a  single  epistle,  which,  perhaps, 
would  never  have  been  written,  had  I  not  used  the  per- 
mission of  employing  my  own  tongue  and  the  hand  of  a 
secretary.  Shall  I  tell  .you,  that  for  these  last  six  weeks, 
the  eve  of  every  day  has  witnessed  a  firm  resolution,  and 
the  day  itself  has  furnished  some  ingenious  delay  ?  This 
morning,  for  instance,  I  determined  to  invade  you  as  soon 
as  the  breakfast  things  should  be  removed  :  they  were 
removed  ;  but  I  had  something  to  read,  to  write,  to  medi- 
tate, and  there  was  time  enough  before  me.  Hour  after 
hour  has  stolen  away,  and  I  finally  begin  my  letter  at  two 
o'clock,  evidently  too  late  for  the  post,  as  I  must  dress, 
dine,  go  abroad,  A  foundation,  however,  shall  be 

laid,  which  will  stare  me  in  the  face ;  and  next  Saturday 
I  shall  probably  be  roused  by  the  awful  reflection  that  it 
is  the  last  day  in  the  year. 

After  realizing  this  summer  an  event  which  I  had  long 
considered  as  a  dream  of  fancy,  I  know  not  whether  I 
should  rejoice  or  grieve  at  your  visit  to  Lausanne. 
While  I  possessed  the  family,  the  sentiment  of  pleasure 
highly  predominated ;  when,  just  as  we  had  subsided  in  a 
regular,  easy,  comfortable  plan  of  life,  the  last  trump 
sounded,  and,  without  speaking  of  the  pang  of  separation, 
you  left  me  to  one  of  the  most  gloomy,  solitary  months 
of  October,  which  I  have  ever  passed.  For  yourself  an^ 
daughters,  however,  you  have  contrived  to  snatch  some 
of  the  most  interesting  scenes  of  this  world,  Paris,  at 
such  a  moment,  Switzerland,  and  the  Rhine,  Strasburg, 
Coblentz,  have  suggested  a  train  of  lively  images  and 


302 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


useful  ideas,  which  will  not  be  speedily  erased.  The 
mind  of  the  young  damsel,  more  especially,,  will  be  en- 
larged and  enlightened  in  every  sense.  In  four  months 
she  has  lived  many  years ;  and  she  will  much  deceive 
and  displease  me,  if  she  does  not  review  and  methodize 
her  journal,  in  such  a  manner  as  she  is  capable  of  per- 
forming, for  the  amusement  of  her  particular  friends. 
Another  benefit  which  will  redound  from  your  recent 
view  is,  that  every  place,  person,  and  object,  about  Lau- 
sanne, are  now  become  familiar  and  interesting  to  you. 
In  our  future  correspondence  (do  I  dare  pronounce  the 
word  correspondence?)  I  can  talk  to  you  as  freely  of 
every  circumstance  as  if  it  were  actually  before  your 
eyes.  And  first,  of  my  own  improvements. — All  those 
venerable  piles  of  ancient  verdure  which  j'ou  admired, 
have  been  eradicated  in  one  fatal  ^ay.  Your  faithful 
substitutes,  William  de  Severy  and  Levade,  have  never 
ceased  to  persecute  me,  till  I  signed  their  death  warrant. 
Their  place  is  now  supplied  by  a  nun:iber  of  picturesque 
naked  poles,  the  foster  fathers  of  as  many  twigs  of  plata- 
nuses,  which  may  afford  a  grateful  but  distant  shade  to 
the  founder,  or  to  his  "  seris  nepotibus."  In  the  mean- 
while, I  must  confess  that  the  terrace  appears  broader, 
and  that  I  discover  a  much  larger  quantity  of  snow  than 
I  should  otherwise  do.  The  workmen  admire  your  inge- 
nious plan  for  cutting  out  a  new  bed-chamber  and  book- 
room  ;  but,  on  mature  consideration,  we  all  unanimously 
prefer  the  old  scheme  of  adding  a  third  room  on  the  ter- 
race beyond  the  library,  with  two  spacious  windows,  and 
a  fire-place  between.  It  will  be  larger  (28  feet  by  21), 
and  plcasanter,  and  warmer :  the  difference  of  expense 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


303 


will  be  much  less  considerable  than  I  imagined :  the  door 
of  communication  with  the  library  will  be  artfully  buried 
in  the  wainscot ;  and,  unless  it  be  opened  by  my  own 
choice,  may  always  remain  a  profound  secret.  Such  is 
the  design ;  but  as  it  will  not  be  executed  before  next 
summer,  you  have  time  and  liberty  to  state  your  objec- 
jections.  I  am  much  colder  about  the  staircase,  but  it 
may  be  finished,  according  to  your  idea,  for  thirty  pounds; 
and  I  feel  they  will  persuade  me.  Am  I  not  a  very  rich  man? 
When  these  alterations  are  completed,  few  authors  of  six 
volumes  in  quarto  will  be  more  agreeably  lodged  than 
myself.  Lausanne  is  now  full  and  lively;  all  our  native 
families  are  returned  from  the  country ;  and,  praised  be 
the  Lord,  we  are  infested  with  few  foreigners,  either 
French  or  English.  Even  our  democrats  are  more  rea- 
sonable or  more  discreet ;  it  is  agreed  to  waive  the  sub- 
iect  of  politics,  and  all  seem  happy  and  cordial,  I  have 
a  grand  dinner  this  week,  a  supper  of  thirty  or  forty 
people  on  twelfth-day,  &c. ;  some  concerts  have  taken 
place,  some  balls  are  talked  of;  and  even  Maria 
would  allow  (yet  it  is  ungenerous  to  say  even  Maria)  that 
the  winter  scene  in  Lausanne  is  tolerably  gay  aod  active. 
I  say  nothing  of  the  Severys,  as  Angletine  has  episiolized 
Maria  last  post.  She  has  probably  hinted  that  her  bro- 
ther meditates  a  short  excursion  to  Turin :  that  wortliy 
fellow  Trevor  has  given  him  a  pressing  invitaffon  to  his 
own  house  In  the  beginning  of  February  I  propose 
going  to  Geneva  for  three  or  four  weeks.  I  shall  lodge 
and  eat  with  the  Neckers  :  my  mornings  will  be  my  own, 
and  I  shall  spend  my  evenings  in  the  society  of  the  place, 
where  I  have  many  acquaintance.    This  short  absence 


304 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON  ESQ. 


will  agitate  my  stagnant  life,  and  restore  me  with  fresh 
appetite  to  my  house,  my  library,  and  my  friends.  Be- 
fore that  time  (the  end  of  February)  what  events  may 
happen,  or  be  ready  to  happen  !  The  national  assembly 
(compared  to  which  the  former  was  a  senate  of  heroes 
and  demi-gods)  seem  resolved  to  attack  Germany  "  avec 
quatre  millions  de  bayonettes  libres ;"  the  army  of  the 
princes  must  soon  either  fight,  or  starve,  or  conquer. 
Will  Sweden  draw  his  sword?  will  Russia  draw  her 
purse?  an  empty  purse !  All  is  darkness  and  anarchy: 
neither  party  is  strong  enough  to  oppose  a  settlement ;  and 
I  cannot  see  a  possibility  of  an  amicable  arrangement, 
where  there  are  no  heads  (in  any  sense  of  the  word)  who 
can  answer  for  the  multitude.  Send  me  your  ideas,  and 
those  of  Lord  Guildford,  Lord  Loughborough,  Fox,  &c. 

Before  I  conclude,  a  word  of  my  vexatious  affairs. — 
Shall  I  never  sail  on  the  smooth  stream  of  good  security 
and  half-yearly  interest?  Will  every  body  refuse  my 
money  ?  J  had  already  written  to  Darell  and  Gosling  to 
obey  your  commands,  and  was  in  hopes  that  you  had 
already  made  large  and  salutary  evacuations.  During 
your  absence  I  never  expected  much  effect  from  the  cold  in- 
difference of  agents  ;  but  you  are  now  in  England — you 
will  be  speedily  in  London  ;  set  all  your  setting  dogs  to 
beat  the  fkld,  hunt,  enquire, — why  should  you  not  adver- 
tise ?  Yet  I  am  almost  ashamed  to  complain  of  some 
stagnation  of  interest,  when  I  am  witness  to  the  natural 
and  acquired  philosophy  of  so  many  French,  who  are 
reduced  from  riches,  not  to  indigence  but  to  absolute 
want  and  beggary.  A  Count  Argout  has  just  left  us, 
who  possessed  ten  thousand  a-year  in  the  island  of  St. 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


305 


Domingo  ;  he  is  utterly  burned  and  ruined ;  and  a  brother, 
whom  he  tenderly  loved,  has  been  murdered  by  the  ne- 
groes. These  are  real  misfortunes.  I  have  much  re- 
volved the  plan  of  the  Memoirs  I  once  mentioned  ;  and, 
as  you  do  not  think  it  ridiculous,  I  believe  I  shall  make 
an  attempt:  if  I  can  please  myself,  I  am  confident  of  not 
displeasing ;  but  let  this  be  a  profound  secret  betvpeen 
us :  people  must  not  be  prepared  to  laugh ;  they  must  be 
taken  by  surprise.  Have  you  looked  over  your,  or 
rather  my  letters  ?  Surely  in  the  course  of  the  year, 
you  may  find  a  safe  and  cheap  occasion  of  sending  me  a 
parcel ;  they  may  assist  me.  Adieu.  I  embrace  my 
lady :  send  me  a  favourable  account  of  her  health.  I 
kiss  the  Marmaille.  By  an  amazing  push  of  remorse  and 
diligence  I  have  finished  my  letter  (three  pages  and  a  half) 
this  same  day  since  dinner ;  but  I  have  not  time  to  read 
it.    Ever  yours. 

Half-past  six. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Lausanne,  December  31st,  179^. 
To-morrow  a  new  year,  multos  et  /dices. 

I  now  most  sincerely  repent  of  my  late  repentance, 
.  and  do  almost  swear  never  to  renounce  the  amiable  and 
useful  practice  of  procrastination.  Had  I  delayed,  as  I 
was  strongly  tempted,  another  post,  your  missive  of  the 
13th,  which  did  not  reach  me  till  this  morning  (three 
mails  were  due),  would  have  arrived  in  time,  and  I 
might  have  avoided  this  second  Herculean  labour.  It 
will  be,  however,  no  more  than  an  infant  Hercules.  The 
topics  of  conversation  have  been  fully  discussed,  and  I 
shall  now  confine  myself  to  the  needful  of  the  ne  a'  busi- 


306 


LETTEKS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


ness.  Felix  faustumque  jit !  may  no  untoward  accident 
disarrange  your  Yorkshire  mortgage ;  the  conclusion  of 
which  will  place  me  in  a  clear  and  easy  state,  such  as  I 
have  never  known  since  the  first  hour  of  property.  *  *  *  * 
The  three  per  cents  are  so  high,  and  the  country  is  in 

such  a  d  d  state  of  prosperity  under  that  fellow  Pitt, 

that  it  goes  against  me  to  purchase  at  such  low  interest. 
In  my  visit  to  England  next  autumn,  or  in  the  spring  fol- 
lowing, (alas  you  must  acquiesce  in  the  alternative,)  I 
hope  to  be  armed  with  sufficient  materials  to  draw  a  sum, 
which  may  be  employed  as  taste  or  fancy  shall  dictate, 
in  the  improvement  of  my  library,  a  service  of  plate,  &c, 
I  am  not  very  sanguine,  but  surely  this  is  no  uncomforta- 
ble prospect.  This  pecuniary  detail,  which  has  not  in- 
deed been  so  unpleasant  as  it  used  formerly  to  be,  has 
carried  me  farther  than  I  expected.  Let  us  now  drink 
and  be  merry.  I  flatter  myself  that  your  Madeira,  im- 
proved by  its  travels,  wiH  set  forwards  for  Messrs.  Rom- 
berg, at  Ostend,  early  in  the  spring :  and  I  should  be 
very  well  pleased  if  you  could  add  a  hogshead  of  excel- 
lent claret,  for  which  we  should  be  entitled  to  the  draw- 
back :  they  must  halt  at  Basle,  and  send  notice  to  me  for 
a  safe  conduct.  Have  you  had  any  intelligence  from 
Lord  Auckland  about  the  wine  which  he  was  to  order 
from  Bordeaux,  by  Marseilles  and  the  Rhone  ?  The 
one  need  not  impede  the  other :  I  wish  to  have  a  large 
stock.  Corea  has  promised  me  a  hogshead  of  his  native 
Madeira,  for  which  I  am  to  give  him  an  order  on  CadcU 
for  a  copy  of  the  Decline  and  Fall :  be  vanished  without 
notice,  and  is  now  at  Paris.  Could  you  not  fish  o  ;t  his 
direction  by  Mrs.  Wood,  who  by  this  time  is  in  England  ? 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


307 


I  rejoice  in  Lally's  prosperity.  Have  you  reconsidered 
my  proposal  of  a  declaration  of  constitutional  principles 
from  the  heads  of  the  party  ?  I  think  a  foolish  address 
from  a  body  of  Whigs  to  the  national  assembly  render^ 
it  still  more  incumbent  on  you.  Achieve  my  worldly 
concerns,  et.  eris  mild  magnus  Apollo.  Adieu,  ever 
yours. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Lausanne,  April  4th,  I7df. 

For  fear  you  should  abuse  me,  as  usual,  I  will  begin 
the  attack,  and  scold  you,  for  not  having  yet  sent  me  the 
long-expected  intelligence  of  the  completion  of  my  mort- 
gage. You  had  positively  assured  me  that  the  second 
of  February  would  terminate  my  worldly  cares,  by  a 
consummation  so  devoutly  to  be  wished.  The  news, 
therefore,  might  reach  me  about  the  eighteenth ;  and  1  ar- 
gued with  the  gentle  logic  of  laziness,  that  it  was  perfectly 
idle  to  answer  your  letter,  till  I  could  chant  a  thanksgiving 
song  of  gratitude  and  praise.  As  every  post  disappointed 
my  hopes,  the  same  argument  was  repeated  for  the  next ; 
and  twenty  empty  handed  postilions  have  blown  their 
insignificant  horns,  till  I  am  provoked  at  last  to  write  by 
sheer  impatience  and  vexation.  Facit  indignatio  versum. 
Cospetto  di  Bacclio;  foT  I  must  eas-e  myself  by  swear- 
ing a  little.  What  is  the  cause,  the  meaning,  the  pretence, 
of  this  delay  ?  Are  the  Yorkshire  mortgagors  inconstant 
in  their  wishes  ?  Are  the  London  lawyers  constant  in 
their  procrastination  ?  Is  a  letter  on  the  road,  to  inform 
me  that  all  is  concluded,  or  to  tell  me  that  all  is  broken 
to  pieces  ?  Had  the  money  been  placed  in  the  three  per 
cents  last  May,  besides  the  annual  interest  it  would  have 


308 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


gained  by  the  rise  of  stock  nearly  twenty  per  cent.  Your 
lordship  is  a  wise  man,  a  successful  writer,  and  a  useful 
senator :  you  understand  America  and  Ireland,  corn  and 
slaves,  but  your  prejudice  against  the  funds,*  in  which  I 
am  often  tempted  to  join,  makes  you  a  little  "blind  to  their 
increasing  value  in  the  hands  of  our  virtuous  and  excel- 
lent minister.  But  our  regret  is  vain :  one  pull  more  and 
we  reach  the  shore ;  and  our  future  correspondence  will 
be  no  longer  tainted  with  business.  Shall  I  then  be  more 
diligent  and  regular  ?  I  hope  and  believe  so ;  for  now 
that  I  have  got  over  this  article  of  worldly  interest,  my 
letter  seems  to  be  almost  finished.  ^  ^rqpos  of  letters, 
am  I  not  a  sad  dog  to  forget  my  Lady  and  Maria? 
Alas !  the  dual  number  has  been  prejudicial  to  both. 
"  How  happy  could  I  be  with  either,  were  t'other  dear 
charmer  away."  I  am  like  the  ass  of  famous  memory  ; 
I  cannot  tell  which  way  to  turn  first,  and  there  I  stand 
mute  and  immovable.  The  baronial  and  maternal  dig- 
nity of  my  lady,  supported  by  twenty  years'  friendship, 
may  claim  the  preference.  But  the  five  incomparable 
letters  of  Maria  ! — Next  week,  however. — Am  I  not 
ashamed  to  talk  of  next  week  ? 

I  have  most  successfully,  and  most  agreeably,  exe- 
cuted my  plan  of  spending  the  month  of  March  at  Geneva, 
in  the  Necker  house,  and  every  circumstance  that  I  had 
arranged  turned  out  beyond  my  expectation ;  the  freedom 
of  the  morning,  the  society  of  the  table  and  drawing- 
room,  half  an  hour  past  two  till  six  or  seven  ;  an  evening 
assembly  and  card-party,  in  a  round  of  the  best  company, 

■*  It  would  be  more  correct  if  he  had  only  stated,  my  preference  of  land  to 
all  other  property. 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


309 


and,  excepting  one  day  in  the  week,  a  private  supper  of 
free  and  friendly  conversation.  You  would  like  Geneva 
better  than  Lausanne ;  there  is  much  more  information 
to  be  got  among  the  men;  but  though  I  found  some 
agreeable  women,  their  manners  and  style  of  life  are, 
upon  the  whole,  less  easy  and  pleasant  than  our  own.  I 
was  much  pleased  with  Necker's  brother,  M.  de  Ger- 
many, a  good-humoured,  polite,  sensible  man,  without  the 
genius  and  fame  of  the  statesman,  but  much  more  adapted 
for  private  and  ordinary  happiness.  Madame  de  Stael 
is  expected  in  a  few  weeks  at  Coppet,  where  they  receive 
her,  and  where,  "  to  dumb  forgetfulness  a  prey,"  she  will 
have  leisure  to  regret  "  the  pleasing  anxious  being," 
which  she  enjoyed  amidst  the  storms  of  Paris.  But  what 
can  the  poor  creature  do  ?  her  husband  is  in  Sweden, 
her  lover  is  no  longer  secretary  at  war,  and  her  father's 
house  is  the  only  place  where  she  can  reside  with  the 
least  degree  of  prudence  and  decency.  Of  that  father  I 
have  really  a  much  higher  idea  than  I  ever  had  before ; 
in  our  domestic  intimacy  he  cast  away  his  gloom  and 
reserve ;  I  saw  a  great  deal  of  his  mind,  and  all  that  I 
saw  is  fair  and  worthy.  He  was  overwhelmed  by  the 
hurricane,  he  mistook  his  way  in  the  fog,  but  in  such  a 
perilous  situation,  I  much  doubt  whether  any  mortal 
could  have  seen  or  stood.  In  the  meanwhile,  he  is  abused 
by  all  parties,  and  none  of  the  French  in  Geneva  will  set 
their  foot  in  his  house.  He  remembers  Lord  Sheffield 
with  esteem  ;  his  health  is  good,  and  he  would  be  tranquil 
in  his  private  life,  were  not  his  spirits  continually  wounded 
by  the  arrival  of  every  letter  and  every  newspaper.  His 
sympathy  is  deeply  interested  by  the  fatal  consequences 


310 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GEBBON,  ESQ. 


of  a  revolution,  in  which  he  had  acted  so  leading  a  part ; 
and  he  feels  as  a  friend  for  the  danger  of  M.  de  Lessart, 
who  may  be  guilty  in  the  eyes  of  the  Jacobins,  or  even 
of  his  judges,  by  those  very  actions  and  dispatches 
which  would  be  most  approved  by  all  the  lovers  of  his 
country.  What  a  momentous  event  is  the  emperor's 
death?  In  the  forms  of  a  new  reign,  and  of  the  imperial 
election,  the  democrats  have  at  least  gained  time,  if  they 
knew  how  to  use  it.  But  the  new  monarch,  though  of  a 
weak  complexion,  is  of  a  martial  temper ;  he  loves  the 
soldiers,  and  is  beloved  by  them ;  and  the  slow,  fluctu- 
ating politics  of  his  uncle  may  be  succeeded  by  a  direct 
line  of  march  to  the  gates  of  Strasburg  and  Paris.  It  is 
the  opinion  of  the  master  movers  in  France,  (I  know  it 
most  certainly,)  that  their  troops  will  not  fight,  that  the 
people  have  lost  all  sense  of  patriotism,  and  that  on  the 
first  discharge  of  an  Austrian  cannon  the  game  is  up. 
But  what  occasion  for  Austrians  or  Spaniards?  the 
French  are  themselves  their  greatest  enemies ;  four 
thousand  Marseillais  are  marched  against  Aries  and 
Avignon,  the  troupes  de  ligne  are  divided  between  the 
two  parties,  and  the  flame  of  civil  war  will  soon  extend 
over  the  southern  provinces.  You  have  heard  of  the  un- 
worthy treatment  of  the  Swiss  regiment  of  Ernst.  The 
canton  of  Berne  has  bravely  recalled  them,  with  a  stout 
letter  to  the  king  of  France,  which  must  be  inserted  in 
all  the  papers.  I  now  come  to  the  most  unpleasant  arti- 
cle, our  home  politics.  Rosset  and  La  Moltc  are  con- 
demned to  fine  and  twenty  years  imprisonment  in  the 
fortress  of  Arbourg.  We  have  not  yet  received  their 
official  sentence,  nor  is  it  believed  that  the  proofs  and 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


311 


proceedings  against  them  will  be  published  ;  an  awkward 
circumstance,  which  it  does  not  seem  easy  to  justify. 
Some  (though  none  of  note)  are  taken  up,  several  are  fled, 
many  more  are  suspected  and  suspicious.  All  are  silent, 
but  it  is  the  silence  of  fear  and  discontent ;  and  the  secret 
hatred  which  rankled  against  government  begins  to  point 
against  the  few  who  are  known  to  be  well  afTected.  1 
never  knew  any  place  so  much  changed  as  Lausanne, 
even  since  last  year ;  and  though  you  will  not  be  much 
obliged  to  me  for  the  motive,  I  begin  very  seriously  to 
think  of  visiting  Sheffield-place  by  the  month  of  Septem- 
ber next.  Yet  here  again  I  am  frightened,  by  the  dan- 
gei-s  of  a  French,  and  the  difficulties  of  a  German,  route. 
You  must  send  me  an  account  of  the  passage  from  Dieppe 
to  Brighton,  with  an  itinerary  of  the  Rhine,  distances, 
expenses,  &c.  As  usual,  I  just  save  the  post,  nor  have  I 
time  to  read  my  letter,  which  after  wasting  the  morning 
in  deliberation,  has  been  struck  off  in  a  heat  since  dinner. 
No  news  of  the  Madeira.  The  views  of  Sheffield-place 
are  just  received ;  they  are  admired,  and  shall  be 
framed.  Severy  has  spent  the  carnival  at  Turin.  Trevor 
is  only  the  best  man  in  the  world. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Lausanne,  May  30th,  ]  792. 

After  the  receipt  of  your  penultimate,  eight  days  ago, 
I  expected  with  much  impatience,  the  arrival  of  your 
next-promised  epistle.  It  arrived  this  morning,  but  has 
not  completely  answered  my  expectations.  I  wanted, 
and  I  hoped  for  a  full  and  fair  picture  of  the  present  and 
probable  aspect  of  your  political  world,  with  which,  at 


312 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


this  distance,  I  seem  every  day  less  satisfied.  In  the 
slave  question  you  triumphed  last  session,  in  this  you 
have  been  defeated.  What  is  the  cause  of  this  alteration  ? 
If  it  proceeded  only  from  an  impulse  of  humanity,  I  can- 
not be  displeased,  even  with  an  error ;  since  it  is  very 
likely  that  my  own  vote  (had  I  possessed  one)  would 
have  been  added  to  the  majority.  But  in  this  rage  against 
slavery,  in  the  numerous  petitions  against  the  slave-trade, 
was  there  no  leaven  of  new  democratical  principles  ?  no 
wild  ideas  of  the  rights  and  natural  equality  of  man  ?  It 
is  these  I  fear.  Some  articles  in  newspapers,  some  pamph- 
lets of  the  year,  the  Jockey  Club,  have  fallen  into  my 
hands.  I  do  not  infer  much  from  such  publications  ;  yet 
I  have  never  known  them  of  so  black  and  malignant  a 
cast.  I  shuddered  at  Grey's  motion ;  disliked  the  half- 
support  of  Fox,  admired  the  firmness  of  Pitt's  declara- 
tion, and  excused  the  usual  intemperance  of  Burke. 
Surely  such  men  as  ****,  ********,  ******^  have  talents 
for  mischief.  I  see  a  club  of  reform  which  contains 
some  respectable  names.  Inform  me  of  the  professions, 
the  principles,  the  plans,  the  resources,  of  these  reformers. 
Will  they  heat  the  minds  of  the  people?  Does  the 
French  democracy  gain  no  ground  ?  Will  the  bulk  of 
your  party  stand  firm  to  their  own  interest,  and  that  of 
their  country  ?  Will  you  not  take  some  active  measures 
to  declare  your  sound  opinions,  and  separate  yourselves 
from  your  rotten  members?  or  if  you  allow  them  to 
perplex  government,  if  you  trample  with  this  solemn 
business,  if  you  do  not  resist  the  spirit  of  innovation  in 
the  first  attempt,  if  you  admit  the  smallest  and  most 
specious  change  in  our  parliamentary  system,  you  are 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIFXD  AND  OTHERS. 


313 


lost.    You  will  be  driven  from  one  step  to  another ;  from 
principles  just  in  theory,  to  consequences  most  pernicious 
in  practice;  and  your  first  concessions  will  be  prod ur, 
tive  of  every  subsequent  mischief,  for  which  you  will  be 
answerable  to  your  country  and  to  posterity.    Do  no*, 
suffer  yourselves  to  be  lulled  into  a  false  security ;  re- 
member the  proud  fabric  of  the  French  monarchy.  Not 
four  years  ago  it  stood  founded,  as  it  might  seem,  on  the 
rock  of  time,  force,  and  opinion,  supported  by  the  triple 
aristocracy  of  the  church,  the  nobility,  and  the  parliaments. 
They  are  crumbled  into  dust ;  they  are  vanished  from 
the  earth.    If  this  tremendous  warning  has  no  effect  on 
the  men  of  property  in  England ;  if  it  does  not  open 
every  eye,  and  raise  every  arm,  you  will  deserve  your 
fate.    If  I  am  too  precipitate,  enlighten ;  if  I  am  too 
desponding,  encourage  me. 

My  pen  has  run  into  this  argument ;  for,  as  much  a 
foreigner  as  you  think  me,  on  this  momentous  subject,  I 
feel  myself  an  Englishman. 

The  pleasure  of  residing  at  Sheffieid-place  is,  after  all, 
the  first  and  the  ultimate  object  of  my  visit  to  my  native 
country.  But  when  or  how  will  that  visit  be  effected? 
Clouds  and  whirlwinds,  Austrian  Croats,  and  Gallic  can- 
nibals, seem  on  every  side  to  impede  my  passage.  You 
appear  to  apprehend  the  perils  or  difficulties  of  the  Ger- 
man road,  and  French  peace  is  more  sanguinary  than 
civilized  war.  I  must  pass  through,  perhaps,  a  thousand 
republics  or  municipalities,  which  neither  obey  nor  are 
obeyed.  The  strictness  of  passports,  and  the  popular 
ferment,  are  much  increased  since  last  summer :  aristo- 
crat is  in  every  mouth,  lanterns  hang  in  every  street,  and 


314 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


a|i  hasty  word  or  a  casual  resemblance  may  be  fatal. 
Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  probable  that  many  English, 
men,  women,  and  children,  will  traverse  the  country 
without  any  accident  before  next  September ;  and  I  am 
sensible  that  many  things  appear  more  formidable  at  a 
distance  than  on  a  nearer  approach.  Without  any 
absolute  determination,  we  must  see  what  the  events  of 
the  next  three  or  four  months  will  produce.  In  the  mean 
while,  I  shall  expect  with  impatience  your  next  letter: 
let  it  be  speedy  ;  my  answer  shall  be  prompt. 

You  will  be  glad,  or  sorry,  to  learn  that  my  gloomy 
appi-ehensions  are  much  abated,  and  that  my  departure, 
whenever  it  takes  place,  will  be  an  act  of  choice,  rather 
than  of  necessity.    I  do  not  pretend  to  affirm,  that  secret 
discontent,  dark  suspicion,  private  animosity,  are  very 
materially  assuaged  ;  but  we  have  not  experience,  nor  do 
we  now  apprehend,  any  dangerous  acts  of  violence, 
which  may  compel  me  to  seek  a  refuge  among  the 
friendly  Bears,*  and  to  abandon  my  library  to  the  mercy 
of  the  democrats.    The  firmness  and  vigour  of  govern- 
ment have  crushed,  at  least  for  a  time,  the  spirit  of  inno- 
vation; and  I  do  not  believe  that  the  body  of  the  people, 
especially  the  peasants,  are  disposed  for  a  revolution. 
From  France,  praised  be  the  demon  of  anarchy !  the 
insurgents  of  the  Pays  de  Vaud  could  not  at  present  have 
much  to  hope  ;  and  should  the  gardes  nationales,  of  which 
there  is  little  appearance,  attempt  an  incursion,  the  coun- 
try is  armed  and  prepared,  and  they  would  be  resisted 
with  equal  numbers  and  superior  discipline.    The  Gallic 
.wolves  that  prowled  round  Geneva  are  drawn  away, 

**  Beme. 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS.  315 


some  to  the  south  and  some  to  the  north,  and  the  late 
events  in  Flanders  seem  to  have  diffused  a  general  con- 
tempt, as  well  as  abhorrence,  for  the  lawless  savages, 
who  fly  before  the  enemy,  hang  their  prisoners,  and 
murder  their  officers.  The  brave  and  patient  regiment 
of  Ernest  is  expected  home  every  day,  and  as  Berne  will 
take  them  into  present  pay,  that  veteran  and  regular 
corps  will  add  to  the  security  of  our  frontier. 

I  rejoice  that  you  have  so  little  to  say  on  that  subject 
of  worldly  affairs.*  *  *  *  This  summer  we  arc 
threatened  with  an  inundation,  besides  many  nameless 
English  and  Irish ;  but  I  am  anxious  for  the  Duchess  of 
Devonshire  and  the  Lady  Elisabeth  Foster,  who  are 
on  their  march.  Lord  Malmsbury,the  audacieux  Harris, 
will  inform  you  that  he  has  seen  me  :  him  I  would  have 
consented  to  keep. 

One  word  more  before  we  part ;  call  upon  Mr.  John 
Nicols,  bookseller  and  printer,  at  Cicero's  Head,  Red- 
Lion-passage,  Fleet-street,  and  ask  him  whether  he  did 
not,  about  the  beginning  of  March,  receive  a  very  polite 
letter  from  Mr.  Gibbon  of  Lausanne  ?  To  which,  either 
as  a  man  of  business  or  a  civil  gentleman,  he  should  have 
returned  an  answer.  My  application  related  to  a  domes- 
tic article  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  of  August,  1788, 
(p.  698,)  which  had  lately  fallen  into  my  hands,  and  con- 
cerning which  I  requested  some  farther  lights.  Mrs. 
Moss  delivered  the  letters*  into  my  hands,  but  I  doubt 
whether  they  will  be  of  much  service  to  me;  the  work 
appears  far  more  difficult  in  the  execution  than  in  the 

*  His  letters  to  me  for  a  certain  period,  .vliic!,  he  desired  me  to  send,  to 
assist  bim  in  writing  his  Memoirs. — S. 


316 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GLBBON,  ESQ. 


idea,  and  as  I  am  now  taking  my  leave  for  some  time  of 
the  library,  I  shall  not  make  much  progress  in  the 
memoirs  of  P.  P-  till  I  am  on  English  ground.  But  is  it 
indeed  true,  that  I  shall  eat  my  Sussex  pheasants  this 
autumn  ?  The  event  is  in  the  book  of  Fate,  and  I  can- 
not unroll  the  leaves  of  September  and  October.  Should 
I  reach  Sheffield-place,  I  hope  to  find  the  whole  family  in 
a  perfect  state  of  existence,  except  a  certain  Maria  Hol- 
royd,  my  fair  and  generous  correspondent,  whose  annihi- 
lation on  proper  terms  I  most  fervently  desire.  I  must 
receive  a  copious  answer  before  the  end  of  next  month, 
June,  and  again  call  upon  you  for  a  map  of  your  political 
world.  The  chancellor  roars ;  does  he  break  his  chain  ? 
Vale. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Lausanne,  August  23rd,  1792. 

When  I  inform  you  that  the  design  of  my  English  ex- 
pedition is  at  last  postponed  till  another  year,  you  v/ill  not 
be  much  surprised.  The  public  obstacles,  the  danger  of 
one  road,  and  the  difficulties  of  another,  would  alone  be 
sufficient  to  arrest  so  unwieldy  and  inactive  a  being ;  and 
these  obstacles  on  the  side  of  France,  are  growing  every 
day  more  insuperable.  On  the  other  hand,  the  terrors, 
which  might  have  driven  me  from  hence,  have,  in  a 
great  measure,  subsided  ;  our  state  prisoners  are  forgot- 
ten :  the  country  begins  to  recover  its  old  good  humour 
and  unsuspecting  confidence,  and  the  last  revolution  of 
Paris  appears  to  have  convinced  almost  every  body  of 
the  fatal  consequences  of  democratical  principles,  which 
lead  by  a  path  of  flowers  into  the  abyss  of  hell.    I  may 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS.  317 

therefore  wait  with  patience  and  tranquillity  till  the  Duke 
of  Brunswick  shall  have  opened  tlie  French  road.  But 
if  I  am  not  driven  from  Lausanne,  you  will  ask,  1  hope 
with  some  indignation,  whether  I  am  not  drawn  to  Eng- 
land, and  more  especially  to  Sheffield-place  ?  The  desire 
of  embracing  you  and  yours  is  now  the  strongest,  and 
must  gradually  become  the  sole,  inducement  that  can 
force  me  from  my  library  and  garden,  over  seas  and 
mountains.  The  English  world  will  forget  and  be  for- 
gotten, and  every  year  will  deprive  me  of  some  ac- 
quaintance, who  by  courtesy  are  styled  friends :  Lord 
Guildford  and  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds !  two  of  the  men, 
and  two  of  the  houses  in  London,  on  whom  I  the  most 
relied  for  the  comforts  of  society. 

September  12th,  1792. 

Thus  far  had  I  written  in  the  full  confidence  of  finish- 
ing and  sending  my  letter  the  next  post ;  but  six  post- 
days  have  unaccountably  slipped  away,  and  were  you 
not  accustomed  to  my  silence,  you  would  almost  begin  to 
think  me  on  the  road.  How  dreadfully,  since  my  last 
date,  has  the  French  road  been  polluted  with  blood  !  and 
what  horrid  scenes  may  be  acting  at  this  moment,  and 
may  still  be  aggravated,  till  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  is 
master  of  Paris  !  On  every  rational  principle  of  calcula- 
tion he  must  succeed ;  yet  sometimes,  when  my  spirits 
are  low,  I  dread  the  blind  efforts  of  mad  and  desperate 
multitudes  fighting  on  their  own  ground.  A  few  days  or 
weeks  must  decide  the  military  operations  of  this  year, 
and  perhaps  for  ever ;  but  on  the  fairest  supposition,  I 
cannot  look  forwards  to  any  firm  settlement,  either  of  a 
legal  or  an  absolute  government.    I  cannot  pretend  to 


318  LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


give  you  any  Paris  news.  Should  I  inform  you,  as  we 
believe,  that  Lally  is  still  among  the  cannibals,  you  would 
possibly  answer,  that  he  is  now  sitting  in  the  library  at 
Sheffield.  Madame  de  Stael,  after  miraculously  escaping 
through  pikes  and  poniard,  has  reached  the  castle  of  Cop- 
pet,  where  I  shall  see  her  before  the  end  of  the  week. 
If  any  thing  can  provoke  the  King  of  Sardinia  and  the 
Swiss,  it  must  be  the  foul  destruction  of  his  cousin  Ma- 
dame de  Lamballe,  and  of  their  regiment  of  guards.  An 
extraordinai  y  counsel  is  summoned  at  Berne,iM^  resentment 
may  he  checked  by  prudence.  In  spite  of  Maria's  laughter, 
I  applaud  your  moderation,  and  sigh  for  a  hearty  union  of 
all  the  sense  and  property  of  the  country.  The  times 
require  it ;  but  your  last  poUtical  letter  was  a  cordial  to 
my  spirits.  The  Duchess  of  D.  rather  dislikes  a  coali- 
tion: amiable  creature  !  The  Eliza  is  furious  against  you 
for  not  writing.  We  shall  lose  them  in  a  few  days ;  but 
the  motions  of  Eliza  and  the  Duchess  for  Italy  or  Eng- 
land, are  doubtful.  Ladies  Spencer  and  Duncannon  cer- 
tainly pass  the  Alps.  I  live  with  them.  Adieu.  Since 
I  do  not  appear  in  person,  I  feel  the  absolute  propriety  of 
writing  to  my  lady  and  Maria ;  but  there  is  far  fi-om  the 
knowledge  to  the  performance  of  a  duty.    Ever  yours. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Lausanne,  October  5lh,  1792. 

As  our  English  newspapers  must  have  informed  you 
of  the  invasion  of  Savoy  by  the  French,  and  as  it  is  possi- 
ble that  you  may  have  some  trifling  apprehensions  of  my 
being  killed  and  eaten  by  those  cannibals,  it  has  appeared 
to  me  that  a  short  extraordinary  dispatch  might  not  be 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS.  319 
 «   

unacceptable  on  this  occasion.  It  is  indeed  true,  that 
about  ten  days  ago  the  French  army  of  the  South,  under 
the  command  of  M.  de  Montesquiou,(if  any  French  army 
can  be  said  to  be  under  any  command,)  has  entered 
Savoy,  and  possessed  themselves  of  Chamberry,  Mont- 
melian,  and  several  other  places.  It  has  always  been  the 
practice  of  the  King  of  Sardinia  to  abandon  his  Trans- 
alpine dominions  ;  but  on  this  occasion  the  court  of  Turin 
appears  to  have  been  surprised  by  the  strange  eccentric 
motions  of  a  democracy,  which  always  acts  from  the 
passion  of  the  moment ;  and  their  inferior  troops  hava* 
retreated,  W'ith  some  loss  and  disgrace,  into  the  passes  of 
the  Alps.  Mount  Cenis  is  now  impervious,  and  our 
English  travellers  who  are  bound  for  Italy,  the  Duchess 
of  Devonshire,  Ancaster,  &c.  will  be  forced  to  explore  a 
long  and  circuitous  road  through  the  Tyrol.  But  the 
Chablais  is  yet  intact,  nor  can  our  telescope  discover  the 
tricolor  banners  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake.  Our  ac- 
counts of  the  French  numbers  seem  to  vary  from  fifteen 
to  thirty  thousand  men ;  the  regulars  are  few,  but  they 
are  followed  by  a  rabble  rout,  which  must  soon,  however, 
melt  away,  as  they  will  find  no  plunder,  and  scanty  sub- 
sistence, in  the  poverty  and  barrenness  of  Savoy. 
N.  B.  I  have  just  seen  a  letter  from  M.  de  Montesquieu, 
who  boasts  that  at  his  first  entrance  into  Savoy  he  had 
only  twelve  battalions.  Our  intelligence  is  far  from 
correct. 

The  magistrates  of  Geneva  were  alarmed  by  this  dan- 
gerous neighborhood,  and  more  especially  by  the  well- 
know  animosity  of  an  exiled  citizen,  Claviere,  who  is  one 
of  the  six  ministers  of  the  French  republic    It  was 


320 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


carried  by  a  small  majority  in  the  general  council,  to  call 
in  the  succour  of  three  thousand  Swiss,  which  is  stipu- 
lated by  ancient  treaty.  The  strongest  reason  or  pre- 
tence of  the  minority,  was  founded  on  the  danger  of  pro- 
voking the  French,  and  they  seemed  to  have  been  justi- 
fied by  the  event ;  since  the  complaint  of  the  French 
resident  amounts  to  a  declaration  of  war.  The  fortifica- 
tions of  Geneva  are  not  contemptible,  especially  on  the 
side  of  Savoy ;  and  it  is  much  doubted  whether  M.  de 
Montesquiou  is  prepared  for  a  regular  siege ;  but  the 
malcontents  are  numerous  within  the  walls,  and  I  ques- 
tion whether  the  spirit  of  the  citizens  will  hold  out  against 
a  bombardment.  In  the  meanwhile  the  diet  has  declared, 
that  the  first  cannon  fired  against  Geneva  will  be  con- 
sidered as  an  act  of  hostility  against  the  whole  Helvetic 
body.  Berne,  as  the  nearest  and  most  powerful  canton, 
has  taken  the  lead  with  great  vigour  and  vigilance ;  the 
road  is  filled  with  the  perpetual  succession  of  troops  and 
artillery ;  and,  if  some  dissatisfaction  lurks  in  the  towns, 
the  peasants,  especially  the  Germans,  are  inflamed  with 
a  strong  desire  of  encountering  the  murderers  of  their 
countrymen.  Mr.  de  Watteville,  with  whom  you  dined 
at  my  house  last  year,  refused  to  accept  the  command 
of  the  Swiss  succour  of  Geneva,  till  it  was  made  his  first 
instruction  that  he  should  never,  in  any  case,  surrender 
himself  prisoner  of  war. 

In  this  situation,  you  may  suppose  that  we  have  some 
fears.  I  have  great  dependence,  however,  on  the  many 
chances  in  our  favour,  the  valour  of  the  Swiss,  the  return 
of  the  Piedmontcse  with  their  Austrian  allies,  eight  or 
ten  thousand  men  from  the  Milanese,  a  diversion  from 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


821 


Spain,  the  great  events  (how  slowly  they  proceed)  on 
the  side  of  Paris,  the  inconstancy  and  want  of  discipline 
of  the  French,  and  the  near  approach  of  the  winter 
season.  I  am  not  nervous,  but  I  will  not  be  rash.  It  will 
be  painful  to  abandon  ray  house  and  library ;  but  if  the 
danger  should  approach,  I  will  retreat  before  it,  first  to 
Berne,  and  gradually  to  the  North.  Should  I  even  be 
forced  to  take  refuge  in  England  (a  violent  measure  so 
late  in  the  year)  you  would  perhaps  receive  me  as  kindly 
as  you  did  the  French  priests — a  noble  act  of  hospitality. 
Could  1  have  foreseen  this  storm,  I  would  have  been  there 
six  weeks  ago ;  but  who  can  foresee  the  wild  measures 
of  the  savages  of  Gaul?  We  thought  ourselves  perfectly 
out  of  the  hurricane  latitudes.  Adieu.  I  am  going  to 
bed,  and  must  rise  early  to  visit  the  Neckers  at  Rolle, 
whither  they  have  retired,  from  the  frontier  situation  of 
Coppet.  Severy  is  on  horseback,  with  his  gragoons : 
his  poor  father  is  dangerously  ill.  It  will  be  shocking  if 
it  should  be  found  necessary  to  remove  hirn.  While  we 
are  in  this  very  awkward  crisis,  I  will  write  at  least 
every  week.  Ever  yours.  Write  instantly,  and  remem- 
ber all  my  commissions. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

I  will  keep  my  promise  of  sending  you  a  weekly  jour- 
nal of  our  troubles,  that,  when  the  piping  times  of  peace 
are  restored,  I  may  sleep  in  long  and  irreproachable 
silence ;  but  I  shall  use  a  smaller  pap^r,  as  our  military 
exploits  will  seldom  be  sufficient  to  fill  the  ample  size  of 
our  English  quarto. 


322  LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


October  13th,  1792. 

Since  my  last  of  the  6th,  our  attack  is  not  more  emi- 
nent, and  our  defence  is  most  assuredly  stronger,  two 
very  important  circumstances,  at  a  time  when  every  day 
is  leading  ub,  though  not  so  fast  as  our  impatience  could 
wish,  towards  the  unwarlike  month  of  November ;  and 
we  observe  with  pleasure  that  the  troops  of  M.  de  Mon- 
tesquiou,  which  are  chiefly  from  the  southern  provinces, 
will  not  cheerfully  entertain  the  rigour  of  an  Alpine 
winter.    The  7th  instant,  M.  de  Chateauneuf,  the  French 
resident,  took  his  leave  with  an'  haugffty  mandate,  com- 
manding the  Genevais,  as  they  valued  their  safety  and 
the  friendship  of  the  republic,  to  dismiss  their  Swiss  allies, 
and  to  punish  the  magistrates  who  had  traitorously  pro- 
posed the  calling  in  these  foreign  troops.    It  is  precisely 
the  fable  of  the  wolves,  who  offered  to  make  peace  with 
the  sheep,  provided  they  would  send  away  their  dogs. 
You  know  what  became  of  the  sheep.    This  demand  ap- 
pears to  have  kindled  a  just  and  general  indignation, 
since  it  announced  an  edict  of  proscription ;  and  must 
lead  to  a  democratical  revolution,  which  would  probably 
renew  the  horrid  scenes  of  Paris  and  Avianon.    A  gene- 
ral assembly  of  the  citizens  was  convened,  the  message 
was  read,  speeches  were  made,  oaths  were  taken,  and  it 
was  resolved,  with  only  three  dissentient  voices,  to  live 
and  die  in  the  defence  of  their  country.    The  Genevais 
muster  above  three  thousand  well-armed  citizens  ;  and 
the  Swiss,  who  nAy  easily  be  increased,  in  a  few  hours, 
to  an  equal  number,  add  spirit  to  the  timorous,  and  confi- 
dence to  the  well-affected :  their  arsenals  are  filled  with 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


323 


arms,  their  magazines  with  ammunition,  and  their  grana- 
ries with  corn.    But  their  fortifications  are  extensive  and 
imperfect,  they  are  commanded  from  two  adjacent  hills  ; 
a  French  faction  lurks  in  the  city,  the  character  of  the 
Genevais  is  rather  commercial  than  military ;  and  their 
behaviour,  lofty  promise,  and  base  surrender,  in  the  year 
1782,  is  fresh  in  our  memories.    In  the  meanwhile,  4000 
French  at  the  most  are  arrived  in  the  neighboring  camp, 
nor  is  there  yet  any  appearance  of  mortars  or  heavy 
artillery.    Perhaps  a  haughty  menace  may  be  repelled 
by  a  firm  countenance.    If  it  .were  worth  while  talking 
of  justice,  what  a  shameful  attack  of  a  feeble  unoffending 
state !    On  the  news  of  their  danger,  all  Switzerland, 
from  Schaffhausen  to  the  Pays  de  Vaud,  has  risen  in 
arms ;  and  a  French  resident,  who  has  passed  through 
the  country,  in  his  way  from  Ratisbon,  declares  his  intea- 
tion  of  informing  and  admonishing  the  national  conven- 
tion.   About  eleven  thousand  Bernais  are  already  posted 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Coppet  and  Nyon ;  and  new 
reinforcements  of  men,  artillery,  &c.  arrive  every  day. 
Another  army  is  drawn  together  to  oppose  M.  de  Fer- 
rieres,  on  the  side  of  Bienne  and  the  bishopric  of  Basle ; 
and  the  Austrians  in  Swabia  would  be  easily  persuaded 
to  cross  the  Rhine  in  our  defence.    But  we  aie  yet  igno- 
rant whether  our  sovereigns  mean  to-  wage  offensive  or 
defensive  war.    If  the  latter,  which  is  more  likely,  will 
the  French  begin  the  attack?    Should  Geneva  yield  to 
fear  or  force,  this  country  is  open  to  an  invasion ;  and 
though  our  men  are  brave,  we  want  generals ;  and  I 
despise  the  French  much  less  than  I  did  two  months  ago. 
It  should  seem  that  our  hopes  from  the  King  of  Sardinia 


324 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON  ESQ. 


and  the  Austrians  of  Milan  are  faint  and  distant;  Spain 
sleeps,  and  the  Duke  of  Bi'unswick  (amazement !)  seems 
to  have  failed  in  his  great  project.  For  my  part,  till 
Geneva  falls,  I  do  not  think  of  a  retreat ;  but,  at  all  events, 
I  am  provided  with  two  strong  horses,  and  a  hundred 
louis  in  gold.  Zurich  vi'ould  be  probably  my  winter 
quarters,  and  the  society  of  the  Neckers  would  make  any 
place  agreeable.  Their  situation  is  worse  than  mine : 
I  have  no  daughter  ready  to  lie  in ;  nor  do  I  fear  the 
French  aristocrats  on  the  road.  Adieu,  Keep  my 
letters ;  excuse  contradictions  and  repetitions.  The 
Duchess  of  Devonshire  leaves  us  next  week.  Lady 
Elizabeth  abhors  you.    Ever  yours. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

October  20tli,  1792. 

Since  my  last,  our  affairs  take  a  more  pacific  turn  ;  but 
I  will  not  venture  to  affirm  that  our  peace  will  be  either 
safe  or  honourable.  M.  de.  Montesquiou  and  three  of 
the  commissioners  of  the  convention,  who  are  atCarrouge, 
have  had  frequent  conferences  with  the  magistrates  of 
Geneva ;  several  expresses  have  been  dispatched  to  and 
from  Paris,  and  every  step  of  the  negotiation,  is  communi- 
cated to  the  deputies  of  Berne  and  Zurich.  The  French 
troops  observe  a  very  tolerable  degree  of  order  and  dis- 
cipline :  and  no  act  of  hostility  has  yet  been  committed  on 
the  territory  of  Geneva. 

October  27. 

My  usual  temper  very  readily  admitted  the  excuse, 
that  it  would  be  better  to  wait  another  week,  till  the 
final  settlement  of  our  affairs.    The  treaty  is  signed  be- 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


325 


tween  France  and  Geneva ;  and  the  ratification  of  the 
convention  is  looked  upon  as  assured,  if  any  thing  can  be 
assured  in  that  wild  democracy.  On  condition  that  the 
Swiss  garrison,with  the  approbation  of  Berne  and  Zurich, 
be  recalled  before  the  first  of  December,  it  is  stipulated  that 
the  independence  of  Geneva  shall  be  preserved  inviolate; 
that  M.  de  Montesquiou  shall  immediately  send  away  his 
heavy  artillery  ;  and  that  no  French  troops  shall  approach 
within  ten  leagues  of  the  city.  As  the  Swiss  have  acted 
only  as  auxiliaries,  they  have  no  occasion  for  a  direct 
treaty ;  but  they  cannot  prudently  disarm,  till  they  are 
satisfied  of  the  pacific  intentions  of  France ;  and  no  such 
satisfaction  can  be  given  till  they  have  acknowledged  the 
new  republic,  which  they  will  probably  do  in  a  few  days, 
with  a  deep  groan  of  indignation  and  sorrow ;  it  has 
been  cemented  with  the  blood  of  their  countrymen  !  But 
when  the  emperor,  the  King  of  Prussia,  the  first  general, 
and  the  first  army  in  Europe  have  failed,  less  powerful 
states  may  acquiesce,  without  dishonour,  in  the  determi- 
nation  of  fortOne.  Do  you  understand  this  most  unex- 
pected failure?  I  will  allow  an  ample  share  to  the  bad- 
ness of  the  roads  and  the  weather,  to  famine  and  disease, 
to  the  skill  of  Dumourier,  a  heaven-born  general,  and  to 
the  enthusiastic  ardour  of  the  new  Romans ;  but  still, 
still  there  must  be  some  «ecret  shameful  cause  at  the 
bottom  of  this  strange  retreat.  We  are  now  delivered 
from  the  impending  terrors  of  siege  and  invasion.  The 
Geneva  emigres,  particularly  the  Neckers,  are  hastening 
to  their  homes ;  and  I  shall  not  be  reduced  to  the  hard 
necessity  of  seeking  a  winter  asylum  at  Zurich  or  Con- 
stance :  but  I  am  not  pleased  with  our  future  prospects. 


826  LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


It  is  much  to  be  feared  that  the  present  government  of 
Geneva  will  be  soon  modelled  after  the  French  fashion ; 
the  new  republic  of  Savoy  is  forming  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  Lake;  the  Jacobin  missionaries  are  powerful 
and  zealous  ;  and  malcontents  of  this  country  who  begin 
••again  to  rear  their  heads,  will  be  surrounded  with  temp- 
tations, and  examples,  and  allies.  I  know  not  whether 
the  Pays  de  Vaud  will  long  adhere  to  the  dominion  of 
Berne  ;  or  whether  I  shall  be  permitted  to  end  my  days 
in  this  little  paradise  which  I  have  so  happily  suited  to 
my  taste  and  circumstances. 

Last  Monday  only  1  received  your  letter,  which  had 
strangely  loitered  on  the  road  since  its  date  of  the  29th  of 
September.  There  must  surely  be  some  disorder  in  the 
posts,  since  the  Eliza  departed  indignant  at  never  having 
heard  from  you. 

The  case  of  my  wine  I  think  peculiarly  hard  ;  to  lose 
my  Madeira,  and  to  be  scolded  for  losing  it.  I  am  much 
indebted  to  Mr.  Nichols  for  his  genealogical  communica- 
tions, which  I  am  impatient  to  receive  ;  but  I  do  not  un- 
derstand why  so  civil  a  gentleman  could  not  favour  me, 
in  six  months,  with  an  answer  by  the  post:  since  he  en- 
trusts me  with  these  valuable  papers,  you  have  not  I 
presume  informed  him  of  my  negligence  and  awkward- 
ness in  regard  to  manuscripts.  Your  reproach  rather 
surprises  men,  as  I  suppose  I  am  much  the  same  as  I 
have  been  for  these  last  twenty  years.  Should  you  hold 
your  resolution  of  writing  only  such  things  as  may  be 
published  at  Charing-cross,  our  future  correspondence 
would  not  be  very  interesting.  But  I  expect  and  require, 
at  this  important  crisis,  a  full  and  confident  account  of 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


327 


your  views  concerning  England,  Ireland,  and  France. 
You  have  a  strong  and  clear  eye ;  and  your  pen  is, 
perhaps,  the  most  useful  quill  that  ever  has  been  plucked 
from  a  goose.  Your  protection  of  the  French  refugees 
is  highly  applauded.  Rosset  and  La  Motte  have  escaped 
from  Arbourg,  perhaps  with  connivance  to  avoid  disa- 
greeable demands  from  the  republic.  Adieu.  Ever 
yours. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

November  10th,  1792. 

Received  this  day,  November  9th,  a  most  amiable  dis- 
patch from  the  too  humble  secretary*  of  the  family  of 
Epsee,t  dated  October  24th,  which  I  answer  the  same 
day.  It  will  be  acknowledged,  that  I  have  fulfilled  my 
engagements  with  as  much  accuracy  as  our  uncertain 
state  and  the  fragility  of  human  nature  would  allow.  I 
resume  my  narrative.  At  the  time  when  we  imagined 
that  all  was  settled  by  an  equal  treaty  between  two  such 
unequal  powers  as  the  Geneva  Flea  and  the  Leviathan 
France,  we  were  thunderstruck  with  the  intelligence 
that  the  ministers  of  the  republic  refused  to  ratify  the 
conditions ;  and  they  were  indignant,  with  some  colour 
of  reason,  at  the  hard  obligation  of  withdrawing  their 
troops  to  the  distance  of  ten  leagues,  and  of  consequently 
leaving  the  Pays  de  Gex  naked,  and  exposed  to  the  Swiss, 
who  had  assembled  15.000  men  on  the  frontier,  and  with 
whom  they  had  not  made  siny  agreement.  The  messen- 
ger who  was  sent  last  Sunday  from  Geneva  is  not  yet 
returned  ;  and  many  persons  are  afraid  of  some  design 


*  Miss  Holroyd. 


t  Meaning  Sheffield-place. 


328 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


and  danger  in  this  delay.  Montesquieu  has  acted  with 
politeness,  moderation  and  apparent  sincerity ;  hut  he 
may  resign,  he  may  be  superseded,  his  place  may  be 
occupied  by  an  enrage,  by  Servan,  or  Prince  Charles  of 
Hesse,  who  would-  aspire  to  imitate  the  predatory  fame 
of  Custine  in  Germany.  In  the  meanwhile,  the  general 
holds  a  wolf  by  the  ears ;  an  officer  who  has  seen  his 
troops,  about  18,000  men  (with  a  tremendous  train  of 
artillery),  represents  them  as  a  black,  daring,  desperate 
crew  of  buccaneers,  rather  shocking  than  contemptible  ; 
the  officers  (scarcely  a  gentleman  among  them),  without 
servants,  or  horses,  or  baggage,  lying  higgledy  piggledy 
on  the  ground  with  the  common  men,  yet  maintaining  a 
rough  kind  of  discipline  over  them.  They  already  begin 
to  accuse  and  even  to  suspect  their  general,  and  call 
aloud  for  blood  and  plunder :  could  they  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  squeezing  some  of  the  rich  citizens,  Geneva 
would  cut  up  as  fat  as  most  towns  in  Europe.  During 
this  suspension  of  hostilities  they  are  permitted  to  visit 
the  city  without  arms,  sometimes  three  or  four  hundred 
at  a  time  ;  and  the  magistrates,  as  well  as  the  Swiss 
commander,  are  by  no  means  pleased  with  this  dangerous 
intercourse,  which  they  dare  not  prohibit.  Such  are  our 
fears ;  yet  it  should  seem  on  the  other  side,  that  the 
French  affect  a  kind  of  magnanimous  justice  towards 
their  little  neighbour,  and  that  they  are  not  ambitious  of 
an  unprofitable  contest  with  the  poor  and  hardy  Swiss. 
The  Swiss  are  not  equal  to  a  long  and  expensive  war; 
and  as  most  of  our  militia  have  families  and  trades,  the 
country  already  sighs  for  their  return.  Whatever  can 
be   yielded   without  absolute  danger  or  disgrace,  will 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


329 


doubtless  be  granted ;  and  the  business  will  probably  end  in 
our  owning  the  sovereignty,  and  trusting  to  the  good  faith 
of  the  republic  of  France :  how  that  word  would  have 
sounded  four  years  ago  !  The  measure  is  humiliating ; 
but  after  the  retreat  of  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  and  the 
failure  of  the  Austrians,  the  smaller  powers  may  ac- 
quiesce without  dishonour.  Every  dog  has  his  day ;  and 
these  Gallic  dogs  have  their  day,  at  least,  of  most  inso- 
lent prosperity.  After  forcing  or  tempting  the  Prussians 
to  evacuate  their  country,  thcy  conquer  Savoy,  pillage 
Germany,  threaten  Spain  :  the  Low  Countries  are  ere 
now  invaded  ;  Rome  and  Italy  tremble  ;  they  scour  the 
Mediterranean,  and  talk  of  sending  a  squadron  into  the 
South  Sea.  The  whole  horizon  is  so  black,  that  I  begin 
to  feel  some  anxiety  for  England,  the  last  refuge  ol 
liberty  and  law ;  and  the  more  so,  as  I  perceive  from 
Lord  Sheffield's  last  epistle  that  his  firm  nerves  are  a 
little  shaken ;  but  of  this  more  in  my  next,  for  I  want  to 
unburthen  my  conscience.  If  England,  with  the  expe- 
rience of  our  happiness  and  French  calamities,  should 
now  be  seduced  to  eat  the  apple  of  false  freedom,  we 
should  indeed  deserve  to  be  driven  from  the  paradise 
which  we  enjoy.  I  turn  aside  from  the  horrid  and  im- 
probable, (yet  not  impossible)  supposition,  that,  in  three 
or  four  year's  time,  myself  and  my  best  friends  may  be 
reduced  to  the  deplorable  state  of  the  French  emigrants : 
they  thought  it  as  impossible  three  or  four  years  ago. 
Never  did  a  revolution  affect,  to  such  a  degree,  the  pri- 
vate existence  of  such  numbers  of  the  first  people  of  a 
great  country :  your  examples  of  misery  I  could  easily 
match  with  similar  examples  in  this  country  and  the 


330 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


neighbourhood ;  and  our  sympathy  is  the  deeper  as  we 
do  not  possess,  like  you,  the  means  of  alleviating,  in  some 
degree,  the  misfortunes  of  the  fugitives.    But  I  must 
have,  from  the  very  excellent  pen  of  the  Maria,  the  tragedy 
of  the  Archbishop  of  Aries  ;  and  the  longer  the  better. 
Madame  de  Biron  has  probably  been  tempted  by  some 
faint  and  (I  fear)  fallacious  promises  of  clemency  to  the 
women,  and  which  have   likewise   engaged  Madame 
d'Aguesseau  and  her  two  daughters  to  revisit  France, 
Madame  de  Bouillon  stands  her  ground,  and  her  situation 
as  a  foreign  princess  is  less  .exposed.    As  Lord  Sheffield 
has  assumed  the  glorious  character  of  protector  of  the 
distressed,  his  name  is  pronounced  with  gratitude  and  re- 
spect.   The  D.  of  Richmond  is  praised  on  Madame  de 
Biron's  account.  To  the  Princess  d'Henin  and  Lally,  I  wish 
to  be  remembered.  The  Neckers  cannot  venture  into  Ge- 
neva, and  Madame  de  Stael  will  probably  lie  in  at  Rolle. 
He  is  printing  a  defence  of  the  King,  &c.  against  their  re- 
publican judges  ;  but  the  name  of  Necker  is  unpopular  to 
all  parties,  and  I  much  fear  that  the  guillotine  will  be 
more  speedy  than  the  press.    It  will,  however,  be  an 
eloquent  performance  ;  and,  if  I  find  an  opportunity,  I  am 
to  send  you  one,  to  you  Lord  Sheffield  by  his  particular 
desire :    he  wishes  likewise    to  convey  some  copies 
with  speed   to  our  principal  people,  Pitt,  Fox,  Lord 
Stormont,  &c.   But  such  is  the  rapid  succession  of  events, 
that  it  will  appear  like  the  Pouvoir  Executif,  his  best 
work,  after  the  whole  scene  has  beey  totally  changed. 
Ever  yours. 

P.  S.  The  revolution  of  France,  and  my  triple  despatch 
by  the  same  post  to  Sheffield-place,  are,  in  my  opmion, 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


331 


the  two  most  singular  events  in  the  eighteenth  century. 
I  found  the  task  so  easy  and  pleasant,  that  I  had  some 
thoughts  of  adding  a  letter  to  the  gentle  Louisa,  I  am 
this  moment  informed,  that  our  troops  on  the  frontier  are 
beginning  to  move,  on  their  return  home  ;  yet  we  hear 
nothing  of  the  treaty's  being  concluded. 

EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ.,  TO  THE  HON.  MISS  HOLUOYD. 

Lausanne,  Nov.  10th,  1792. 

In  dispatching  the  weekly  political  journal  to  Lord  S. 
my  conscience  (for  I  have  some  remains  of  conscience) 
most  powerfully  urges  me  to  salute,  with  some  lines  of 
friendship  and  gratitude,  the   amiable  secretary,  who 
might  save  herself  the  trouble  of  a  modest  apology.  I 
have  not  yet  forgotten  our  different  behaviour  after  the 
much  lamented  separation  of  October  the  4th,  1791,  your 
meritorious  punctuality,  and  my  unworthy  silence.  I 
have  still  before  me  that  entertaining  narrative,  which 
would  have  interested  me,  not  only  in  the  progress  of  the 
carissima  familia,  but  in  the  motions  of  a  Tartar  camp, 
or  the  march  of  a  caravan  of  Arabs  :  the  mixture  of  jwst 
observation  and  lively  imagery,  the  strong  sense  of  a 
man  expressed  with  the  easy  elegance  of  a  female.  1 
still  recollect  with  pleasure  the  happy  comparison  of  the 
Rhine,  who  had  heard  so  much  of  hberty  on  both  his 
banks,  that  he  wandered  with  mischievous  licentiousness 
over  all  the  adjacent  meadows.*    The  inundation,  alas ! 
has  now  spread  much  wider ;  and  it  is  sadly  to  be  feared 
that  the  Elbe,  the  Po,  and  the  Danube,  may  imitate  the 

*  Mr.  Gibbon  alludes  to  letters  written  to  him  by  Miss  Holroyd,  when  she 
was  returning  from  Switzerland,  along  the  Rhine,  to  England. 


332 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


vile  example  of  the  Rhine  :  I  shall  be  content,  however, 
if  our  own  Thames  still  preserves  his  fair  character,  of 

Strong  witliout  rage,  without  o'erflowing  fall. 

The  agreeable  epistle  of  Maria  produced  only  some  dumb 
intentions,  and  some  barren  remorse  ;  nor  have  I  deigned., 
except  by  a  brief  missive  from  my  chancellor,  to  express 
how  much  I  loved  the  author,  and  how  much  I  was 
pleased  with  the  composition.  That  amiable  author  I 
have  known  and  loved  from  the  first  dawning  of  her  life 
and  coquetry  to  the  present  maturity  of  her  talents  ;  and 
as  long  as  I  remain  on  this  planet,  I  shall  pursue,  with 
the  same  tender  and  even  anxious  concern,  the  future 
steps  of  her  establishment  and  life.  That  establishment 
must  be  splendid  ;  that  life  must  be  happy.  She  is  en- 
dowed with  every  gift  of  nature  and  fortune ;  but  the 
advantage  which  she  will  derive  from  them,  depends 
almost  entirely  on  herself.  You  must  not,  you  shall  not, 
think  yourself  unworthy  to  write  to  any  man  :  there  is  none 
whom  your  correspondence  would  not  amuse  and  satisfy. 
I  will  not  undertake  a  task,  wliich  my  taste  would  adopt, 
and  my  indolence  would  too  soon  relinquish  ;  but  I  am 
really  curious,  from  the  best  motives,  to  have  a  particular 
account  of  your  own  studies  and  daily  occupation.  What 
books  do  you  read  1  and  how  do  you  employ  your  time 
and  your  pen?  Except  some  professed  scholars,  I  have 
often  observed  that  women  in  general  read  much  more 
than  men ;  but,  for  want  of  a  plan,  a  method,  a  fixed 
object,  their  reading  is  of  little  benefit  to  themselves,  or 
others.  If  you  will  inform  me  of  the  species  of  reading  to 
which  you  have  the  most  propensity,  I  shall  be  happy  to 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


333 


contribute  my  share  of  advicfe  or  assistance.    I  lament 
that  you  have  not  left  me  some  monument  of  your  pencil. 
Lady  Elizabeth  Foster  has  executed  a  very  pretty  draw- 
ing, taken  from  the  door  of  the  green-house  where  we 
dined  last  summer,  and  including  the  poor  acacia  (now 
recovered  from  the  cruel  shears  of  the  gardener),  the  end 
of  the  terrace,  the  front  of  the  pavilion,  and  a  distant  view 
of  the  country,  lake,  and  mountains.    I  am  almost  recon- 
ciled to  D'Apples'  house,  which  is  nearly  finished.  In- 
stead of  the  monsters  which  Lord  Hercules  Sheffield 
extirpated,  the  terrace  is  already  shaded  with  the  new 
acacias  and  plantains  ;  and  although  the  uncertainty  of 
possession  restrains  me  from  building,  I  myself  have 
planted  a  bosquet  at  the  botto'm  of  the  garden,  with  such 
admirable  skill  that  it  affords  shade  without  intercepting 
prospect.    The  society  of  the  aforesaid  Eliza,  of  the 
Duchess  of  D.  &c.  has  been  very  interesting ;  but  they 
are  now  flown  beyond  the  Alps,  and  pass  the  winter  at 
Pisa.    The  Legards,  who  have  long  since  left  this  place, 
should  be  at  present  in  Italy ;  but  I  believe  Mrs.  Grim- 
stone  and  her  daughter  returned  to  England.    The  Le- 
vades  are  highly  flattered  by  your  remembrance.  Since 
you  still  retain  some  attachment  to  this  delightful  country, 
and  it  is  indeed  delightful,  why  should  you  despair  of 
seeing  it  once  more?    The  happy  peer  or  commoner, 
whose  name  you  may  assume,  is  still  concealed  in  the 
book  of  fate ;  but  whosoever  he  may  be,  he  will  cheer- 
fully obey  your  commands,  of  leading  you  from  

Castle  to  Lausanne,  and  from  Lausanne  to  Rome  and 
Naples.  Before  that  event  takes  place,  I  may  possibly 
see  you  in  Sussex ;  and,  whether  as  a  visitor  or  as  a  fugi- 


334 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWABD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


tive,  I  hope  to  be  welcomed  with  a  friendly  embrace. 
The  delay  of  this  year  was  truly  painful,  but  it  was  ine- 
vitable ;  and  individuals  must  submit  to  those  storms 
which  have  overturned  the  thrones  of  the  earth.  The 
tragic  story  of  the  Archbishop  of  Aries  I  have  now  some- 
what a  better  right  to  require  at  your  hands.  I  wish  to 
have  it  in  all  its  horrid  details  ;*  and  as  you  are  now  so 

*  The  answer  to  Mr.  Gibbon's  letter  is  annexed,  as  the  best  account  I 
have  seen  of  the  barbarous  transaction  alluded  to — S. 

"  Sheffield-place,  November,  1791. 
Your  three  letters  received  yesterday  caused  the  most  sincere  pleasure 
to  each  individual  of  this  family;  to  none  more  than  myself.  Praise,  (I 
fear,  beyond  my  deserts,)  from  one  whose  opinion  I  so  highly  value,  and 
whose  esteem  I  so  much  wish  to  preserve,  is  more  pleasing  than  I  can  de- 
scribe. I  had  not  neglected  to  make  the  collection  of  facts  which  you 
recommend,  and  which  the  great  variety  of  unfortunate  persons  whom  we 
see,  or  with  whom  we  correspond,  enables  me  to  make. 

'•  As  to  that  part  of  your  letter  which  respects  my  studies,  I  can  only 
Bay,  the  slighest  hint  on  that  subject  is  always  received  with  the  greatest 
gratitude,  and  attended  to  with  the  utmost  punctuality  ;  but  I  must  decline 
that  topic  for  the  present,  to  obey  your  commands,  which  require  from  me 
the  horrid  accouut  of  the  massacre  aux  Carmes. — Eight  respectable  eccle- 
fiiaslics,  landed,  about  the  beginniug  of  October,  from  an  open  boat  at  Sea- 
ford,  wet  as  the  waves.  The  natives  of  the  coast  were  endeavouring  to  get 
from  them  what  they  had  not,  viz.  money,  when  a  gentleman  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood came  to  their  protection  ;  and,  finding  they  had  nothing,  showed 
his  good  sense,  by  dispatching  them  to  Milord  Sheffield  :  they  had  been 
pillaged,  and  with  great  difficulty  had  escaped  from  Paris.  The  reception 
they  met  with  at  this  house,  seemed  to  make  the  greatest  impression 
on  them  ;  they  were  in  ecstacy  on  finding  M.  de  Lally  living ;  they  gradu- 
ally became  cheerful,  and  enjoyed  their  dinner;  they  were  greatly  affected 
as  they  recollected  themselves,  and  found  us  attending  on  them.  Having 
diued,  and  drank  a  glass  of  wine,  they  began  to  discover  the  beauties  of 
the  dining-room,  and  of  the  chateau :  as  they  walked  about,  they  were 
overheard  to  express  their  admiration  at  the  treatment  they  met,  and  from 
Protestants.    We  then  assembled  in  the  library,  formed  a  half  circle  round 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


335 


much  mingled  with  the  French  exiles,  I  am  of  opinion 
that  were  you  to  keep  a  journal  of  ail  the  authentic  facts 

the  fire,  M.  de  Lally  and  Milord  occupying  the  hearth  4  I'Auglaise,  and 
questioned  the  priests  concerning  their  escape.  Thus  we  discovered  that 
two  of  these  unfortunate  men  were  in  the  Carmelite  convent  at  the  time  of 
the  massacre  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  priests,  and  had  most  miraculously 
escaped,  by  climbing  trees  in  the  garden,  and  from  thence  over  the  tops  of 
the  buildings.  One  of  them,  a  man  of  superior  appearance,  described  in 
the  most  pathetic  manner,  the  death  of  the  Archbishop  of  Aries,  (and  with 
such  simplicity  and  feeling,  as  to  leave  no  doubt  of  the  truth  of  all  that  he 
said,)  to  the  following  purport. — On  the  second  of  September,  about  five 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  at  the  time  they  were  permitted  to  walk  in  the 
garden,  expecting  every  hour  to  be  released,  they  expressed  their  surprise 
at  seeing  several  large  pits,  which  had  been  digging  for  two  days  past ; 
they  said,  the  day  is  almost  spent ;  and  yet  Manuel  told  a  person  who 
interceded  for  us  last  Thursday,  that  on  the  Sunday  following  not  one 
should  remain  in  captivity  ;  we  are  still  prisoners.  Soon  after,  they  heard 
shouts,  and  some  musket  shots.  An  ensign  of  the  national  guard,  some 
commissaries  of  the  sections,  and  some  Marseillais  rushed  in ;  the  miserable 
victims,  who  were  dispersed  in  the  garden,  assembled  under  the  walls  of 
the  church,  not  daring  to  go  in,  lest  it  should  be  polluted  with  blood.  One 
man,  who  was  behind  the  rest,  was  shot.  '  Point  de  coup  de  fusils,'  cried 
one  of  the  chiefs  of  the  assassins,  thinking  that  kind  of  death  too  easy. 
These  well-trained  fusileers  went  to  the  rear ;  les  piques,  les  haches,  les 
poignards  came  forward.  They  demanded  the  Archbishop  of  Aries  ;  he 
was  immediately  surrounded  by  all  the  priests.  The  worthy  prelate  sa'd  to 
his  friends,  '  Let  me  pass  ;  if  my  blood  will  appease  them,  what  signifies 
it,  if  I  die!  Is  it  not  my  duty  to  preserve  your  lives  at  the  expense  of  my 
own  ?'  He  asked  the  eldest  of  the  priests  to  give  him  absolution  :  he 
knelt  to  receive  it;  and  when  he  arose,  forced  himself  from  them, 
advanced  slowly,  and  with  his  arms  crossed  upon  his  breast,  and  his  eyes 
raised  to  heaven,  said  to  the  assassins,  '  Je  suis  celui  que  vo&s  cherchez.' 
His  appearance  was  so  dignified  and  noble,  that,  during  ten  minutes,  not 
one  of  these  wretches  had  courage  to  lift  his  hand  against  liim  ;  they 
upbraided  each  other  with  cowardice,  and  advanced  ;  one  look  from  this 
venerable  man  struck  them  with  awe,  and  they  retired.  At  last,  one  of 
the  miscreants  struck  ofiF  the  cap  of  the  archbishop  with  a  pike ;  respect 


336  LETTEES  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


which  they  relate,  it  would  be  an  agreeable  exercise  at 
present,  and  a  future  source  of  entertainment  and 
instruction. 

I  should  be  obliged  to  you,  if  you  would  make,  or  find, 
some  excuse  for  my  not  answering  a  letter  from  your 

once  violated ,  their  fury  returned,  and  another  from  behind  cut  him  through 
the  skull  with  a  sabre.  He  raised  his  right  hand  to  his  eyes  ;  with  ano- 
ther stroke  they  cut  off  his  baud.  The  Arclibishop  said, '  Oh,  mon  Dieu  !' 
and  raised  the  other ;  a  third  stroke  across  the  face  left  him  sitting;  the 
fourth  extended  him  lifeless  on  the  ground  ;  and  then  all  pressed  forward, 
and  buried  their  pikes  and  poniards  in  the  body.  The  priests  all  agreed, 
that  he  had  been  one  of  the  most  amiable  men  in  France  ;  and  that  his 
only  crime  was,  having,  since  the  revolution,  expended  his  private  fortune, 
to  support  the  necessitous  clergy  of  the  diocese.  The  second  \'ictim  was 
the  General  des  Benedietins.  Then  the  national  guards  obliged  the  priests 
to  go  into  the  church,  telling  them,  they  should  appear,  one  after  another, 
before  the  commissaires  du  section.  They  had  hardly  entered,  before  the 
people  impatiently  called  for  them;  upon  which,  all  kneeling  before  the 
altar,  the  Bishop  of  Beauvais  gave  them  absolution:  they  were  then 
obhged  to  go  out,  two  by  two  ;  they  passed  before  a  commissaire,  who 
did  not  question,  but  only  counted  his  victims;!  they  had  in  their  sight  the 
heaps  of  dead,  to  which  they  were  going  to  add.  Among  the  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  priests  thus  sacrificed,  were  the  Bishops  of  Zaintes  and 
Beauvais  (both  of  the  Rochefoucauld  family.)  I  should  not  omit  to  re- 
mark, that  one  of  the  priests  observed  they  were  assassinated,  because  they 
would  not  swear  to  a  constitution  which  their  murderers  had  destroyed. 
We  had  to  comfort  us  for  this  melancholy  story  the  most  grateful  expres- 
sions of  gratitude  towards  the  English  nation,  from  whom  they  did  not  do 
us  the  justice  to  expect  such  a  reception. 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  whole  business  of  the  massacres  was 
concerted  at  the  Duke  of  Orleans'  house.  I  shall  make  you  as  dismal  as 
myself  by  this  narration,    I  must  change  the  style."  ***•*»**»•• 

t  *    *    *    *    Visum  est  lenti  quassisse  nocentem 
Innumerum  paras  magna  pent. 

Lucan,\\h.'2.  v.  110.— S, 


TO  LORD  SIlEFf  ir.LD  AND  OTHERS. 


337 


aunt,  ■which  was  presented  to  me  by  Mr.  Fowler.  I 
showed  him  some  civilities,  but  he  is  now  a  poor  invalid, 
confined  to  his  room.  By  her  channel  and  yours  I 
should  be  glad  to  have  some  information  of  the  health, 
spirits,  and  situation  of  Mrs.  Gibbon  of  Bath,  whose 
alarms  (if  she  has  any)  you  may  dispel.  She  is  in  my 
debt.    Adieu,  most  truly  yours. 

EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESa.  TO  THE  RIGHT  HON.  LADY  SHEFFIELD. 

Lausanae,  November  10,  1792. 

I  could  never  forgive  myself,  were  I  capable  of  writing 
by  the  same  post,  a  political  epistle  to  the  father,  and  a 
friendly  letter  to  the  daughter,  without  sending  any 
token  of  remembrance  to  the  respectable  matron,  my 
dearest  my  lady,  whom  I  have  now  loved  as  a  sister  for 
something  better  or  worse  than  twenty  years.  No, 
indeed,  the  historian  may  be  careless,  he  may  be  indolent, 
he  may  always  intend  and  never  execute,  but  he  is  neither 
a  monster  nor  a  statute ;  he  has  a  memory,  a  conscience, 
a  heart,  and  that  heart  is  sincerely  devoted  to  Lady 
S****.  He  must  even  _  acknowledge  the  fallacy  of  a 
sophism  which  he  has  sometimes  used,  and  she  has 
always  and  most  truly  denied  ;  that,  where  the  persons 
of  a  family  are  strictly  united,  the  w'riting  to  one  is  in 
fact  writing  to  all :  and  that  consequently  all  his  nume- 
rous letters  to  the  husband,  may  be  considered  as  equally 
addressed  to  his  wife.  He  feels,  on  the  contrary,  that 
separate  minds  have  their  distinct  ideas  and  sentiments, 
and  that  each  character,  either  in  speaking  or  writing, 
has  its  peculiar  tone  of  conversation.  He  agrees  with 
the  maxim  of  Rousseau,  that  three  friends  who  wish  to 


338 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


disclose  a  common  secret,  will  impart  it  only  deux  a  deux; 
and  he  is  satisfied  that,  on  the  present  memorable  occa- 
sion, each  of  the  persons  of  the  Sheffield  family  will 
claim  a  peculiar  share  in  this  triple  missive,  which  will 
communicate,  however,  a  triple  satisfaction.  The  expe- 
rience of  what  may  be  effected  by  vigorous  resolution, 
encourages  the  historian  to  hope  that  he  shall  cast  the 
skin  of  the  old  serpent,  and  hereafter  show  himself  as  a 
new  creature, 

I  lament,  on  all  our  accounts,  that  the  last  year's  expe- 
dition to  Lausanne  did  not  take  place  in  a  golden  period 
of  health  and  s-pirits.  But  we  must  reflect,  that  human 
felicity  is  seldom  without  alloy;  and  if  we  cannot  indulge 
the  hope  of  your  making  a  second  visit  to  Lausanne,  we 
must  look  forwards  to  my  residence  next  summer  at 
Sheffield-place,  where  I  must  find  you  in  the  full  bloom 
of  health,  spirits,  and  beauty.  I  can  perceive,  by  all 
public  and  private  intelligence,  that  your  house  has  been 
the  open  hospitable  asylum  of  French  fugitives ;  and  it 
is  a  sufficient  proof  of  the  firmness  of  your  nerves,  that 
you  have  not  been  overwhelmed  or  agitated  by  such  a 
concourse  of  strangers.  Curiosity  and  compassion  may, 
in  some  degree,  have  supported  you.  Every  day  has 
presented  to  your  view  some  new  scene  of  that  strange 
tragical  romance,  which  occupies  all  Europe  so  infinitely 
beyond  any  event  that  has  happened  in  our  time,  and  you 
have  the  satisfaction  of  not  being  a  mere  spectator  of  the 
distress  of  so  many  victims  of  false  liberty.  The  benevo- 
lent fame  of  Lord  S.  is  widely  diflTused. 

From  Angletine's  last  letter  to  Maria,  you  have  already 
some  idea  of  the  melancholy  state  of  her  poor  father. 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


339 


As  long  as  Mr.  de  Severy  allowed  our  hopes  and  fears 
to  fluctuate  with  the  changes  of  his  disorder,  I  was  unwil- 
wing  to  say  anything  on  so  painful  a  subject;  and  it  is 
with  the  deepest  concern  that  I  now  confess  our  absolute 
despair  of  his  recovery.  All  his  particular  complaints 
are  now  lost  in  a  general  dissolution  of  the  whole  frame : 
every  principle  of  life  is  exhausted,  and  as  often  as  I  am 
admitted- to  his  bed-side,  though  he  still  looks  and  smiles 
with  the  patience  of  an  angel,  I.  have  the  heartfelt  grief 
of  seeing  him  each  day  drawing  nearer  to  the  term  of  his 
existence.  A  few  weeks,  possibly  a  few  days,  will  de- 
prive me  of  the  most  excellent  friend,  and  break  forever 
the  most  perfect  system  of  domestic  happiness,  in  which  I 
had  so  large  and  intimate  a  share.  Wilhelm  (who  has 
obtained  leave  of  absence  from  his  military  duty)  and  his 
sister  behave  and  feel  like  tender  and  dutiful  children; 
but  they  have  a  long  gay  prospect  of  life,  and  new  con- 
nexions, new  families  will  make  them  forget,  in  due  time, 
the  common  lot  of  mortality.  But  it  is  Madame  de 
Severy  whom  I  truly  pity;  I  dread  the  effects  of  the  first 
shock,  and  I  dread  still  more  the  deep  perpetual  con- 
suming affliction  for  a  loss  which  can  never  be  retrieved. 
You  will  not  wonder  that  such  reflections  sadden  my 
own  mind,  nor  can  I  forget  how  much  my  situation  is 
altered  since  I  retired,  nine  years  ago,  to  the  banks  of  the 
Leman  Lake.  The  death  of  poor  Deyverdun  first 
deprived  me  of  a  domestic  companion,  who  can  never  be 
supplied ;  and  your  visit  has  only  served  to  remind  me 
that  man,  however  amused  and  occupied  in  his  closet, 
was  not  made  to  live  alone.  Severy  will  soon  be  no 
more ;  his  widow  for  a  long  time,  perhaps  for  ever,  will 


340  LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBfeON  ESQ. 


be  lost  to  herself  and  her  friends,  the  son  will  travel,  and 
I  shall  be  left  a  stranger  in  the  insipid  circle  of  mere 
common  acquaintance.  The  revolution  of  France,  which 
first  embittered  and  divided  the  society  of  Lausanne,  has 
opposed  a  barrier  to  my  Sussex  visit,  and  may  finally 
expel  me  from  the  paradise  which  I  inhabit.  Even  that 
paradise,  the  expensive  and  delightful  establishment  of 
my  house,  library,  and  garden,  almost  becomes  an  incum- 
brance, by  rendering  ij,  more  difficult  for  me  to  relinquish 
my  hold,  or  to  form  a  new  system  of  life  in  my  native 
country,  for  which  my  income,  though  improved  and  im- 
proving, would  be  probably  insufficient.  But  every  com- 
plaint should  be  silenced  by  the  cljfemplation  of  the 
French ;  compared  with  whose  cruel  fate,  all  misery  is 
relative  happiness.  I  perfectly  concur  in  your  partiality 
for  Lally;  though  Nature  might  forget  some  meaner 
ingredients,  of  prudence,  economy,  &c.,  she  never  formed 
a  purer  heart,  or  a  brighter  imagination.  If  h^  be  with 
you,  I  beg  my  kindest  salutations  to  him.  I  am  every 
day  more  closely  united  with  the  Neckers.  Should  France 
break,  and  this  country  be  over-run,  they  would  be 
reduced,  in  very  humble  circumstances,  to  seek  a  refuge ; 
and  where  but  in  England?  Adieu,  dear  madam  :  there 
is,  indeed,  much  pleasure  in  discharging  one's  heart  to  a 
real  friend.    Ever  yours. 

EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ.,  TO  THE  EIGHT  HON.  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 

[Send  me  a  list  of  these  letters,  with,  their  respective 
dates.] 

Lausanne ,  Nov.  25th,  1792. 

After  the  triple  labour  of  my  last  despatch,  your  ex- 
perience of  the  creature  might  tempt  you  to  suspect  that 


TO  LORD  SHEfFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


34t 


it  would  again  relapse  into  a  long  slumber.    But,  partly 
from  the  spirit  of  contradiction,  (though  I  am  not  a  lady,) 
and  partly  from  the  ease  and  pleasure  which  1  now  find 
in  the  task,  you  see  me  again  alive,  awake,  and  almost 
faithful  to  my  hebdomidal  promise.    The  last  week  has 
not,  however,  afforded  any  events  deserving  the  notice  of 
an  historian.    Our  affairs  are  still  floating  on  the  waves 
of  the  convention,  and  the  ratification  of  a  corrected 
treaty,  which  had  been  fixed  for  the  twentieth,  is  not  yet 
arrived    but  the  report  of  the  diplomatic  committee  has 
been  favourable,  and  it  is  generally  understood  that  the 
leaders  of  the  French  republic  do  not  wish  to  quarrel 
with  the  Swiss.    We  are  gradually  withdrawing  and 
disbanding  our  militia.    Geneva  will  be  left  to  sink  or 
swim,  according  to  the  humour  of  the  people ;  and  our 
last  hope  appears  to  be,  that  by  submission  and  good  be- 
haviour we  shall  avert  for  some  time  the  impending 
storm.    A  few  days  ago,  an  odd  incident  happened  in  the 
French  army ;  the  desertion  of  the  general.    As  the 
Neckers  were  sitting,  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening, " 
in  their  drawing-room  at  RoUe,*  the  door  flew  open,  and 
they  were  astounded  by  the  servant's  announcing  Mon- 
sieur le  General  de  Montesquiou  !    On  the  receipt  of 
some  secret  intelligence  of  a  decret  d'accusation,  and  an 
order  to  arrest  him.  he  had  only  time  to  get  on  horseback, 
to  gallop  through  Geneva,  to  take  boat  for  Coppet,  and 
to  escape  from  his  pursuers,  who  were  ordered  to  seize 
him  alive  or  dead.    He  left  the  Neckers  after  supper, 
passed  through  Lausanne  in  the  night,  and  proceeded 
to  Berne  and  Basle,  whence  he  intended  to  wind  his  way 

•  A  considerable  town  between  Laosaone  and  Geneva. 


342  LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


through  Germany,  amidst  enemies  of  every  description, 
and  to  seek  a  refuge  in  England,  America,  or  the  moon. 
He  to]d  Necker,  that  the  sole  remnant  of  his  fortune  con- 
sisted in  a  wretched  sum  of  twenty  thousand  livres  ;  bu). 
the  public  report,  or  suspicion,  bespeaks  him  in  much 
better  circumstances.  Besides  the  reproach  of  acting 
with  too  much  tameness  and  delay,  he  is  accused  of 
making  very  foul  and  exhorbitant  contracts :  and  it  is 
certain  that  new  Sparta  is  infected  with  this  vice  beyond 
the  example  of  the  most  corrupt  monarchy.  Kellerman 
is  arrived  to  take  the  command  ;  and  it  is  apprehended  that 
on  the  first  of  December,  after  the  departure  of  the  Swiss, 
the  French  may  request  the  permission  of  using  Geneva, 
a  friendly  city,  for  their  winter  quarters.  In  that  case, 
the  democratical  revolution,  which  we  all  foresee,  will  be 
very  speedily  effected. 

I  would  ask  you,  whether  you  apprehend  there  was 
any  treason  in  the  Duke  of  Brunswick's  retreat,  and 
whether  you  have  totally  withdrawn  your  confidence 
and  esteem  from  that  once-famed  general  ?  Will  it  be 
possible  for  England  to  preserve  her  neutrality  with 
any  honour  or  safety  ?  We  are  bound,  as  I  understand, 
by  treaty,  to  guarantee  the  dominions  of  the  King  of  Sar- 
dinia and  the  Austrian  provinces  of  the  Netherlands. 
These  countries  are  now  invaded  and  over-run  by  the 
French.  Can  we  refuse  to  fulfil  our  engagements,  with- 
out exposing  ourselves  to  all  Europe  as  a  perfidious 
or  pusillanimous  nation  ?  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  can  we 
assist  those  allies,  without  plunging  headlong  into  an 
abyss,  whose  bottom  no  man  can  discover?  But  my 
only  anxiety  is  for  our  domestic  tranquillity  ;  for  1  must 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


343 


find  a  retreat  in  England,  should  I  be  driven  from  Lau- 
sanne. The  idea  of  firm  and  honourable  union  of  parties 
pleases  me  much ;  but  you  must  frankly  unfold  what 
are  the  great  difficulties  that  may  impede  so  salutary  a 
measure :  you  write  to  a  man  discreet  in  speech,  and 
careful  of  papers.  Yet  what  can  such  a  coalition  avail  ? 
Where  is  the  champion  of  the  constitution?  Alas,  Lord 
Guildford !  I  am  much  pleased  with  the  Manchester  ass. 
The  asses  or  wolves  who  sacrificed  him  have  cast  off  the 
mask  too  soon ;  and  such  a  nonsensical  act  must  open 
the  eyes  of  many  simple  patriots,  who  might  have  been 
led  astray  by  the  specious  name  of  reform.  It  should  be 
made  as  notorious  as  possible.  Next  winter  may  be  the 
crisis  of  our  fate,  and  if  you  begin  to  improve  the  consti- 
tution, you  may  be  driven  step  by  step  from  the  disfran- 
chisement of  Old  Sarum  to  the  king  in  Newgate,  the 
lords  voted  useless,  the  bishops  abolished,  and  a  house  of 
commons  without  articles  (sans  cullottes).  Necker  has 
ordered  you  a  copy  of  his  royal  defence,  which  has  met 
with,  and  deserved  univeral  success.  The  pathetic  and 
argumentative  parts  are,  in  my  opinion,  equally  good,  and 
his  mild  eloquence  may  persuade  without  irritating.  1 
have  applied  to  this  gentler  tone  some  verses  of  Ovid, 
(Metamorph.  1.  iii.  302,  &c.*)  which  you  may  read. 
Madame  de  Stael  has  produced  a  second  son.  She  talks 
wildly  enough  of  visiting  England  this  winter.    She  is  a 

*  Qua  tamen  usque  potest,  vires  sibi  demere  tentat. 
Nec,  quo  centimanum  dejecerat  igne  Typhcea, 
Nunc  armatur  eo  ;  nimiutn  ferritatis  in  illo. 
Est  aliud  leviu»fulmen ;  cui  dextra  Cyclopam 
Seevitis,  ilammaeque  minus,  minus  addit  irae  : 
Tela  Bocuuda  vocant  Superi. 


344 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  iSQ. 


pleasant  little  woman.  Poor  Severy's  cond-aon  is  hope- 
less. Should  he  drag  through  the  winter,  Madame  de 
S.  would  scarcely  survive  him.  She  kills  herself  with 
grief  and  fatigue.  What  a  difference  in  Lausanne !  I 
hope  triple  answers  are  on  the  road.  I  muat  write  soon ; 
the  times  will  not  allow  me  to  read  or  think.    Ever  yours. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Lausanne,  Dec.  14tb,  179i2. 

Our  little  storm  has  now  completely  subsided,  dod  we 
are  again  spectators,  though  anxious  spect-".tov\  of  the 
general  tempest  that  invades  or  threatens  al.nsst  every 
country  of  Europe.  Our  troops  are  every  'Iny  disband- 
ing and  returning  home,  and  the  greatest  part  of  the 
French  have  evacuated  the  neighbourhood  of  Geneva. 
Monsieur  Barthelemy,  whom  you  have  seen  secretary  in 
London,  is  most  courteously  entertained,  as  ambassador, 
by  the  Helvetic  body.  He  is  now  at  Berne,  where  a 
diet  will  speedily  be  convened ;  the  language  on  both 
sides  is  now  pacific,  and  even  friendly,  and  some  hopes 
are  given  of  a  provision  for  the  officers  of  the  Swiss 
guards  who  have  survived  the  massacres  of  Paris. 

January  1st,  1793. 

With  the  return  of  peace  I  have  relapsed  into  my 
former  indolence  ;  but  now  awakening,  after  a  fortnight's 
slumber,  I  have  little  or  nothing  to  add,  with  regard  to 
the  internal  state  of  this  country,  only  the  revolution  of 
Geneva  has  already  taken  place,  as  I  announced,  but 
sooner  than  I  expected.  The  Swiss  troops  had  no  sooner 
evacuated  the  place,  than  the  Egaliseurs,  as  they  are 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERg. 


345 


called,  assembled  in  arms  ;   and  as  no  resistance  was 
made,  no  blood  was  shed  on  the  occasion.    They  seized 
the  gates,  disarmed  the  garrison,  imprisoned  the  magis- 
trates, imparted  the  rights  of  citizens  to  all  the  rabble  of 
the  town  and  country,  and  proclaimed  a  national  con- 
vention, which  has  not  yet  met.    They  are  all  for  a  pure 
and  absolute  democracy  ;  but  wish  to  remain  a  small  in- 
dependent state,  whilst  others  aspire  to  become  a  part  of 
the  republic  of  France ;   and  as  the  latter,  though  less 
numerous,  are  more  violent  and  absurd  than  their  adver- 
saries, it  is  highly  probable  that  they  will  succeed.  The 
citizens  of  the  best  families  and  fortunes  have  retired 
from  Geneva  into  the  Pays  de  Vaud,  but  the  French 
methods  of  recalling  or  proscribing  emigrants  will  soon 
be  adopted.    You  must  have  observed,  that  Savoy  has 
now  become  "le  department  du  Mont  Blanc."    I  cannot 
satisfy  myself  whether  the  mass  of  the  people  is  pleased 
or  displeased  with  the  change ;  but  my  noble  scenery  is 
clouded  by  the  democratical  aspect  of  twelve  leagues  of 
the  opposite  coast,  which  every  morning  obtrude  them- 
selves on  my  view.    I  here  conclude  the  first  part  of 
the  history  of  our  Alpine  troubles,  and  now  consider 
myself  as  disengaged  from  all  promises  of  periodical 
writing.    Upon  the  whole,  I  kept  it  beyond  our  expec- 
tation ;  nor  do  I  think,  that  you  have  been  sufficiently 
astonished  by  the  wonderful  effort  of  the  triple  dispatch. 

You  must  now  succeed  to  my  task,  and  I  shall  expect, 
during  the  winter,  a  regular  political  journal  of  the  events 
of  your  greater  world.  You  are  on  the  theatre,  and  may 
often  be  behind  the  scenes.  You  can  always  see,  and 
may  sometimes  foresee.    My  own  choice  has  indeed  trans- 


346  LETTERS  FEOM  EDWAED  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


ported  me  into  a  foreign  land  ;  but  I  am  truly  attached, 
from  interest  and  inclination,  to  my  native  country  ;  and 
even  as  a  citizen  of  the  world,  I  wish  the  stability  and 
happiness  of  England,  the  sole  great  refuge  of  mankind 
against  the  opposite  mischiefs  of  despotism  and  de- 
mocracy. I  was  indeed  alarmed,  and  the  more  so,  as  I 
saw  that  you  were  not  without  apprehension ;  but  I  now 
glory  in  the  triumph  of  reason  and  genuine  patriotism, 
which  seems  to  pervade  the  country  ;  nor  do  I  dislike 
some  mixture  of  popular  enthusiasm,  which  may  be 
requisite  to  encounter  our  mad  or  wicked  enemies  with 
equal  arms.  The  behaviour  of  Fox  does  not  surprise  me. 
You  may  remember  what  I  told  you  last  year  at  Lau- 
sanne, when  you  attempted  his  defence,  that  *  *  *  * 
You  have  now  crushed  the  daring  subverters  of  the  con- 
stitution ;  but  I  now  fear  the  moderate  well-meaners — 
reformers.  Do  not,  I  beseech  you,  tamper  with  parlia- 
mentary representation.  The  present  house  of  commons 
forms,  in  practice,  a  body  of  gentlemen,  who  must  always 
sympathise  with  the  interests  and  opinions  of  the  people  ; 
and  the  slightest  innovation  launches  you,  without  rud- 
der or  compass,  on  a  dark  and  dangerous  ocean  of  theo- 
retical experiment.    On  this  subject  I  am  indeed  serious. 

Upon  the  whole,  1  like  the  beginning  of  ninety-three 
better  than  the  end  of  ninety-two.  The  illusion  seems 
to  break  away  throughout  Europe.  I  think.  England  and 
Switzerland  are  safe.  Brabant  adheres  to  the  old  con- 
stitution. The  Germans  arc  disgusted  with  the  rapine 
and  insolence  of  their  deliverers.  The  pope  is  resolved 
to  head  his  armies,  and  the  lazzaroni  of  Naples  have 
presented  St.  Januarius  with  a  gold  fuzee,  to  fire  on 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


347 


the  brigands  Frangais.  So  much  for  politics,  which  till 
now  never  had  such  possession  of  my  mind.  Next  post 
I  will  write  about  myself  and  my  own  designs.  Alas, 
your  poor  eyes !  make  the  Maria  write ;  I  will  speedily 
answer  her.  My  lady  is  still  dumb.  The  German  posts 
are  now  slow  and  irregular.  You  had  better  write  by 
the  "way  of  France,  under  cover.  Direct  to  Le  citoyen 
flebeurs.  a  Pontalier,  France. 

Adieu ;  ever  yours. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Laosanne,  Jan.  6th,  1793. 

There  was  formerly  a  time  when  our  correspondence 
was  a  painful  discussion  of  my  private  affairs  ;  a  vexatious 
repetition  of  losses,  of  disappointments,  of  sales,  &c. 
These  affairs  are  decently  arranged  :  but  public  cares 
have  now  succeeded  to  private  anxiety,  and  our  whole 
attention  is  lately  turned  from  Lenborough  and  Beriton, 
to  the  political  state  of  France  and  of  Europe.  From 
these  politics,  however,  one  letter  shall  be  free,  while  I 
talk  of  myself  and  of  my  own  plans ;  a  subject  most  in- 
teresting to  a  friend,  and  only  to  a  friend. 

I  know  not  whether  I  am. sorry  or  glad  that  my  expe- 
dition has  been  postponed  to  the  present  year.  It  is  true, 
that  I  now  wish  myself  in  England,  and  almost  repent 
that  I  did  not  grasp  the  opportunity  when  the  obstacles 
were  comparatively  smaller  than  they  are  now  likely  to 
prove.  Yet  had  I  reached  you  last  summer  before  the 
month  of  August,  a  considerable  portion  of  my  time 
would  be  now  elapsed,  and  I  should  already  begin  to 
think  of  my  departure.    If  the  gout  should  spare  me  this 


348 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


winter,  (and  as  yet  I  have  not  felt  any  symptom.)  and  if 
the  spring  should  make  a  soft  and  early  appearance,  it  is 
my  intention  to  be  with  you  in  Downing-street  before 
the  end  of  April,  and  thus  to  enjoy  six  weeks  or  two 
months  of  the  most  agreeable  season  of  London  and  the 
neighbourhood,  after  the  hurry  of  parliament  is  subsided, 
and  before  the  great  rural  dispersion-  As  the  ban&s  of 
the  Rhine  and  the  Belgic  provmces  are  completely  over- 
spread with  anarchy  and  war,  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
to  pass  through  the  territories  of  the  French  republic. 
From  the  best  and  most  recent  information,  I  am  satisfied 
that  there  is  little  or  no  real  danger  in  the  journey;  and 
I  must  arm  myself  with  patience  to  support  the  vexatious 
insolence  of  democratical  tyranny.  I  have  even  a  sort 
of  curiosity  to  spend  some  days  at  Paris,  to  assist  at  the 
debates  of  the  Pandaemonium,  to  seek  an  introduction  to 
the  principal  devils,  and  to  contemplate  a  new  form  of 
public  and  private  life,  which  never  existed  before,  and 
which  I  devoutly  hope  will  not  long  continue  to  exist. 
Should  the  obstacles  of  health  or  weather  confine  me  at 
Lausanne  till  the  month  of  May,  I  shall  scarcely  be  able 
to  resist  the  temptation  of  passing  some  part  at  least  of 
the  summer  in  my  own  little  paradise.  But  all  these 
schemes  must  ultimately  depend  on  the  great  question  of 
peace  or  war,  which  will  indeed  be  speedily  determined. 
STionld  France  become  impervious  to  an  English  travel- 
ler, what  must  I  do?  1  shall  not  easily  resolve  to  ex- 
plore my  way  through  the  unknown  language  and  abom- 
inable roads  of  the  interior  parts  of  Germany,  to  embark 
in  Holland,  or  perhaps  at  Hamburgh,  and  to  be  finally  in- 
tercepted by  a  French  privateer.    My  stay  in  England 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


349 


appears  not  less  doubtful  than  the  means  of  transporting 
myself.  Should  I  arrive  in  the  spring,  it  is  possible,  and 
barely  possible,  that  I  should  return  here  in  the  autumn, 
it  is  much  more  probable  that  I  shall  pass  the  winter, 
and  there  may  be  even  a  chance  of  my  giving  my 
own  country  a  longer  trial.  In  my  letter  to  my  lady  I 
fairly  exposed  the  decline  of  Lausanne ;  but  such  an 
establishment  as  mine  must  not  be  lightly  abandoned; 
nor  can  I  discover  what  adequate  mode  of  life  my  private 
circumstances,  easy  as  they  now  are,  could  afford  me  in 
England.  London  and  Bath  have  doubtless  their  respec- 
tive merits,  and  I  could  wish  to  reside  within  a  day's 
journey  of  Sheffield-place.  But  a  state  of  perfect  happi- 
ness is  not  to  be  found  here  below  ;  and  in  the  possession 
of  my  library,  house,  and  garden,  with  the  relics  of  our 
society,  and  a  frequent  intercourse  with  the  Neckers,  I 
may  still  be  tolerably  content.  Among  the  disastrous 
changes  of  Lausanne,  I  must  principally  reckon  the 
approaching  dissolution  of  poor  Severy  and  his  family. 
He  is  still  alive,  but  in  such  hopeless  and  painful  decay, 
that  we  no  longer  conceal  our  wishes  for  his  speedy  re- 
lease. I  never  loved  nor  esteemed  him  so  much  as  in 
this  last  mortal  disease,  which  he  supports  with  a  degree 
of  energy,  patience,  and  even  cheerfulness,  beyond  all 
feehef.  His  wife,  whose  whole  time  and  soul  are  devoted 
to  him,  is  almost  sinking  under  her  long  anxiety.  The 
children  are  most  amiably  assiduous  to  both  their  parents, 
and  at  all  events,  his  filial  duties  and  worldly  cares  must 
detain  the  son  some  time  at  home. 

And  now  approach,  and  let  me  drop  into  your  most 


350 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWABD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


private  ear,  a  literary  secret.  Of  the  Memoirs  little  has 
been  done,  and  with  that  little  I  am  not  satisfied.  They 
must  be  postponed  till  a  mature  season;  and  I  much 
doubt  whether  the  book  and  the  author  can  ever  see  the 
light  at  the  same  time.  But  I  have  long  revolved  in  my 
mind  another  scheme  of  biographical  writing :  the  lives, 
or  rather  the  characters,  of  the  most  eminent  persons  in 
arts  and  arms,  in  church  and  state,  who  have  flourished 
in  Britain  from  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  to  the  present 
age.  This  work,  extensive  as  it  may  be,  would  be  an 
amusement  rather  than  a  toil ;  the  materials  are  accessi- 
ble in  our  own  language,  and  for  the  most  part  ready  to 
my  hands:  but  the  subject,  which  would  afford  a  rich 
display  of  human  nature  and  domestic  history,  would 
powerfully  address  itself  to  the  feelings  of  every  English- 
man. The  taste  or  fashion  of  the  times  seems  to  delight 
in  picturesque  decorations,  and  this  series  of  British  por- 
traits might  be  aptly  accompanied  by  the  respective 
heads,  taken  from  originals,  and  engraved  by  the  best 
masters.  Alderman  Boydell,  and  his  son-in-law,  Mr. 
George  NicoU,  bookseller  in  Pallmall,  are  the  great  under- 
takers in  this  line.  On  my  arrival  in  England  I  shall  be 
free  to  consider,  whether  it  may  suit  me  to  proceed  in  a 
mere  literary  work  without  any  other  decorations  than 
those  which  it  may  derive  from  the  pen  of  the  author. 
It  is  a  serious  truth,  that  I  am  no  longer  ambitious  of 
fame  or  money ;  that  my  habits  of  industry  are  much 
impaired,  and  that  I  have  reduced  my  studies  to  be  the 
loose  amusement  of  my  morning  hours,  the  repetition  of 
which   will  insensibly  lead  me  to  the  last  term  of 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


351 


existence.  And  for  this  very  reason  I  shall  not  be  sorry  to 
bind  myseJf  by  a  liberal  engagement,  from  which  I  may 
not  with  honour  recede. 

Before  !•  conclude,  we  must  say  a  word  or  two  of  par- 
liamentary and  pecuniary  concerns.  1.  We  all  admire 
the  generous  spirit  with  which  you  d  d  the  assas- 
sins *  *.  I  hope  that  *  *  *  *  *  The  opinion  of  parhament 
in  favour  of  Louis  was  declared  in  a  manner  worthy  of 
the  representatives  of  a  great  and  wise  nation.  It  will 
certainly  have  a  powerful  effect ;  and  if  the  poor  King 
be  not  already  murdered,  I  am  satisfied  that  his  life  is  in 
safety :  but  is  such  a  life  worth  his  care  ?  Our  debates 
will  now  become  every  day  more  interesting ;  and  as  I 
expect  from  you  only  opinions  and  anecdotes,  I  most 
earnestly  conjure  you  to  send  me  Woodfall's  Register  as 
often  (and  that  must  be  very  often)  as  the  occasion 
deserves  it.    I  now  spare  no  expense  for  news. 

I  want  some  account  of  Mrs.  G.'s  health.  Will  my 
lady  never  write  ?  How  can  people  be  so  indolent !  I 
suppose  this  will  find  you  at  Shefiield- place  during  the 
recess,  and  that  the  heavy  baggage  will  not  move  till 
after  the  birthday.  Shall  I  be  with  you  by  the  first  of 
May?  The  Gods  only  know.  I  almost  wish  that  I  had 
accompanied  Madame  de  Stael.    Ever  yours, 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Begun  Feb.  9,— ended  Feb.  18,  1793. 

The  struggle  is  at  length  over,  and  poor  De  Severy  is 
no  more !  He  expired  about  ten  days  ago,  after  every 
vital  principle  had  been  exhausted  by  a  complication  of 
disorders,  which  had  lasted  above  five  months:  and  a 


LETTERS  FROiM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


mortification  in  one  of  his  legs,  that  gradually  rose  to  the 
more  noble  parts,  was  the  immediate  cause  of  his  death. 
His  patience  and  even  cheerfulness  supported  him  to  the 
fatal  moment ;  and  he  enjoyed  every  comfort  that  could 
alleviate  his  situation,  the  skill  of  his  physicians,  the  assi- 
duous tenderness  of  his  family,  and  the  kind  sympathy 
not  only  of  his  particular  friends,  but  even  of  common 
acquaintance,  and  generally  of  the  whole  town.  The 
stroke  has  been  severely  felt,  yet  I  have  the  satisfaction 
to  perceive  that  Madame  de  Severy's  health  is  not 
affected ;  and  we  may  hope  that  in  time  she  will  recover 
a  tolerable  share  of  composure  and  happiness.  Her 
firmness  was  checked  by  the  violent  sallies  of  grief;  her 
gentleness  has  preserved  her  from  the  worst  of  symp- 
toms, a  dry,  silent  despair.  She  loves  to  talk  of  her 
irreparable  loss,  she  descants  with  pleasure  on  his  virtues ; 
her  words  are  interrupted  with  tears,  but  those  tears  are 
her  best  relief;  and  her  tender  feelings  will  insensibly 
subside  into  an  affectionate  remembrance.*    Wilhelm  is 

*  she  is  no  more — that  virtuous  wife,  that  venerated  mother,  that  sure 
and  constant  friend,  whose  value  Mr.  Gibbon  so  well  appreciated,  whom  ha 
speaks  of  with  so  much  interest,  with  whom  and  whose  worthy  husband  he 
passed,  in  the  pleasure  of  intimate  friendship,  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life, 
and  whose  children  were  adopted  by  his  heart. 

Catherine  Louise  Jacqueline  de  Chandieu  was  born  at  Lausanne  on  the 
3d  of  February,  1741,  She  had  been  endowed  by  nature  with  health  and 
beauty,  and  a  good  education  had  added  to  these  gifts  the  most  agreeable 
and  useful  accomplishments,  joined  to  the  steady  principles  of  an  amiable 
and  enlightened  religion.  Habitual  association  with  those  persons  who 
were  most  distinguished  by  their  merit,  birth,  or  talents,  had  crowned  the 
work  of  Nature  and  Education.  In  17C6  she  married  M.  de  Chariere  de 
Severy,  and  by  these  happy  espousals  insured  that  happiness  which  she  had 
a  right  to  expect.    Without  entering  into  the  detail  of  her  private  and 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


353 


much  more  deeply  wounded  than  I  could  imagine,  or 
than  he  expected  himself;  nor  have  I  ever  seen  the 
affliction  of  a  son  more  lively  and  sincere.  Severy  was 
indeed  a  very  valuable  man:  without  any  shining  qualifi- 
cations, he  was  endowed  in  a  high  degree  with  good  sense, 
honour,  and  benevolence ;  and  few  men  have  filled  with 

active  virtues,  we  shall  be  contented  with  saying  that  Madame  de  Severy 
knew  how  to  unite,  during  the  course  of  her  life,  with  a  wisdom  that  was 
the  fruit  of  reflection  and  piety,  duties  apparently  the  most  opposite  :  that 
she  was  able  to  reconcile  the  faculty  of  pleasing  with  the  most  scrupulous 
reser\'e ;  to  accept  with  discrimination  the  ti-ibutes  paid  to  youth  and 
beauty,  and  to  preserve  an  angelic  purity  iu  an  age  of  levity  and  folly. 

Happy  in  the  bosom  of  her  family,  yet  at  her  estates,  in  the  city,  and  in 
its  most  brilliant  circles,  she  was  everywhere  in  her  appropriate  place,  and 
everywhere  an  object  of  consideration  and  respect.  On  the  29th  of  Janu- 
ary, 1793,  she  was  deprived,  by  a  lingering  malady,  of  a  beloved  husband. 
Her  anxieties,  watchings,  and  profound  gi  ief  did  not  in  the  least  abate  her 
courage ;  she  comforted  and  strengthened  her  children  by  inculcating  into 
them  the  principles  of  a  religion,  which  she  had  always  looked  on  as  her 
surest  refuge  in  distress.  She  was  still  mourning  in  seclusion  for  the  loss 
of  her  tenderly  loved  husband  when  the  death  of  Mr.  Gibbon  called  for 
renewed  tears.  Time  had  with  difficulty  begun  to  heal  this  double  wound  ; 
she  began  again  to  adorn  and  animate  society  by  her  presence,  her  blooming 
beauty  and  noble  carriage  attracted  every  eye ;  she  appeared  and  vanished- 
Her  iUness,  which  was  of  a  complicated  character,  was  neither  long  nor 
painful ;  and  the  serenity  of  a  pure  soul  accompanied  her,  without  anguish, 
into  the  bosom  of  eternal  repose  on  the  17th  of  January,  1796. 

Madame  de  Severy  left  two  children,  M.  \V.  de  Severy  (whom  Mr. 
Gibbon  has  sufBcieuily  made  known  by  these  words  inserted  in  his  will, 
"whom  I  wish  to  style  by  the  endearing  name  of  son,")  and  M.  Angletine 
de  Severy,  who  vividly  recalls  to  the  mind  the  recollection  of  the  gi-aces 
and  virtues  of  hi»  mother.  The  happiness  enjoyed  by  this  family  in  inti- 
mate and  continued  intercourse  with  a  mother  who  was  their  best  friend, 
renders  their  loss  irreparable,  and  their  grief  agonizing  ;  they  listen  to  no 
consolations  but  those  offered  by  that  pure  religion  whose  cheering  princi- 
ples were  implanted  in  their  breasts  by  their  virtuous  mother. — S. 


354 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON  ESQ. 


more  propriety  their  circle  in  private  life.  For  myself, 
I  have  had  the  misfortune  of  knowing  him  too  late,  and  of 
losing  him  too  soon.  But  enough  of  this  melancholy 
subject. 

The  affairs  of  this  theatre,  which  must  always  be 
minute,  are  now  grown  so  tame  and  tranquil,  that  they 
no  longer  deserve  the  historian's  pen.  The  new  consti- 
tution of  Geneva  is  slowly  forming,  vpithout  much  noise 
or  any  bloodshed ;  and  the  patriots,  who  have  staid  in 
hopes  of  guiding  or  restraining  the  multitude,  flatter  them- 
selves that  they  shall  be  able  at  least  to  prevent  their  mad 
countrymen  from  giving  themselves  to  the  French,  the 
only  mischief  that  would  be  absolutely  irretrievable. 
The  revolution  of  Geneva  is  of  less  consequence  to  us, 
however,  than  that  of  Savoy;  but  our  fate  will  depend 
on  the  general  event,  rather  than  on  these  particular 
causes.  In  the  meanwhile  we  hope  to  be  quiet  spectators 
of  the  struggle  of  this  year ;  and  we  seem  to  have  assu- 
rances that  both  the  emperor  and  the  French  will  com- 
pound for  the  neutrality  of  the  Swiss.  The  Helvetic 
body  does  not  acknowledge  the  republic  of  France ;  but 
Barthelemy,  their  ambassador,  resides  at  Baden,  and 
steal?,  like  Chauvelin,  into  a  kind  of  extra  official  nego- 
tiation. All  spirit  of  opposition  is  quelled  in  the  canton 
of  Berne,  and  the  perpetual  banishment  of  the  ****** 
family  has  scarcely  excited  a  murmur.  It  will  probably 
be  followed  by  that  of***********:  the  crime 
alleged  in  their  sentence  is  the  having  assisted  at  the 
federation  dinner  at  Rolle  two  years  ago ;  and  as  they 
are  absent,  I  could  almost  wish  that  they  had  been  sum- 
moned to  appear,  and  heard  in  their  own  defence.  To 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS,  355 


the  general  supineness  of  the  inhabitants  of  Lausanne 
I  must  ascribe,  that  the  death  of  Louis  the  Sixteenth  has 
been  received  with  less  horror  and  indignation  than  I 
could  have  wished.  I  was  much  tempted  to  go  into 
mourning,  and  probably  should,  had  the  duchess  beeti 
still  here :  but  as  the  only  Englishman  of  any  mark,  1 
was  afraid  of  being  singular ;  more  especially  as  our 
French  emigrants,  either  from  prudence  or  poverty,  do 
not  wear  black,  nor  do  even  the  Neckers.  Have  you 
read  his  discourse  for  the  king?  It  might  indeed  super- 
sede the  necessity  of  mourning.  I  should  judge  from  your 
last  letter,  and  from  the  diary,  that  the  French  declaration 
of  war  must  have  rather  surprised  you.  I  wish,  although 
I  know  not  how  it  could  have  been  avoided,  that  we 
might  still  have  continued  to  enjoy  our  safe  and  prospe- 
rous neutrality.  You  will  not  doubt  my  best  wishes  for 
the  destruction  of  the  miscreants ;  but  I  love  England 
still  more  than  I  hate  France.  All  reasonable  chances 
are  in  favour  of  a  confederacy,  such  as  was  never  op- 
posed to  the  ambition  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth ;  but,  after 
the  experience  of  last  year,  I  distrust  reason,  and  confess 
myself  fearful  for  the  event.  The  French  arc  strong  in 
numbers,  activity,  enthusiasm  ;  they  are  rich  in  rapine ; 
and  although  their  strength  may  be  only  that  of  a 
frenzy  fever,  they  may  do  infinite  mischief  to  their  neigh- 
bours before  they  can  be  reduced  to  a  strait  waistcoat 
I  dread  the  eifects  that  may  be  produced  on  the  minds 
of  the  people  by  the  increase  of  debt  and  taxes,  probable 
losses,  and  possible  mismanagement.  Our  trade  must 
suffer ;  and  though  projects  of  invasion  have  been  always 


356 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


abortive,  I  cannot  forget  that  the  fleets  and  armies  of 
Europe  have  failed  before  the  towns  in  America,  which 
have  been  taken  and  plundered  by  a  handful  of  bucca- 
neers. 1  know  nothing  of  Pitt  as  a  war  minister ;  but  it 
affords  me  much  satisfaction  that  the  intrepid  wisdom  of 
the  new  chancellor*  is  introduced  into  the  cabinet.  I 
wish,  not  merely  on  your  own  account,  that  you  were 
placed  in  an  active,  useful  station  in  government.  I 
should  not  dislike  you  secretary  at  war. 

I  have  little  more  to  say  of  myself,  or  of  my  journey  to 
England  :  you  know  my  intentions,  and  the  great  events 
of  Europe  must  determine  whether  they  can  be  carried 
into  execution  this  summer,  jf  *  *  *  *  *  ^^s  warmly 
adopted  your  idea,  I  shall  speedily  hear  from  him ;  but, 
in  truth,  I  know  not  what  will  be  my  answer :  I  see  dif- 
ficulties which  at  first  did  not  occur:  I  doubt  my  own 
perseverance,  and  my  fancy  begins  to  wander  into  new 
paths.  The  amusement  of  reading  and  thinking  may 
perhaps  satisfy  a  man  who  has  paid  his  debt  to  the  pub- 
lic ;  and  there  is  more  pleasure  in  building  castles  in  the 
air  than  on  the  ground.  1  shall  contrive  some  small 
assistance  for  your  correspondent,  though  I  cannot  learn 
any  thing  that  distinguishes  him  from  many  of  his  coun- 
trymen :  we  have  had  our  full  share  of  poor  imigrants ; 
but  if  you  wish  that  any  thing  extraordinary  should  be 
done  for  this  man,  you  must  send  me  a  measure.  Adieu. 
I  embrace  my  lady  and  Maria,  as  also  Louisa.  Perhaps 
I  may  soon  write,  without  expecting  an  answer.  Ever 
yours. 

*  Lord  Loughborough. 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


357 


TO  THE  SAME. 

Lausanne,  April  27,  1793. 

My  dearest  friend,  for  such  you  most  truly  are,  nor 
does  there  exist  a  person  who  obtains,  or  shall  ever  ob- 
tain a  superior  place  in  my  esteem  and  affection. 

After  too  long  a  silence  I  was  sitting  down  to  write, 
when,  only  yesterday  morning  (such  is  the  irregular 
slowness  of  the  English  post)  I  was  suddenly  struck,  in- 
deed struck  to  the  heart,  by  the  fatal  intelligence*  from 
Sir  Henry  Clinton  and  M.  de  Lally.  Alas  !  what  is  life, 
and  what  are  our  hopes  and  projects !  When  I  em- 
braced her  at  your  departure  from  Lausanne,  could  I 
imagine  that  it  was  for  the  last  time  ?  When  I  postponed 
to  another  summer  my  journey  to  England,  could  I  ap- 
prehend that  I  never,  never  should  see  her  again  ?  I  al- 
ways hoped  that  she  would  spin  her  feeble  thread  to  a 
long  duration,  and  that  her  delicate  frame  would  survive 
(as  is  often  the  case)  many  constitutions  of  a  stouter  ap- 
pearance. In  four  days  !  in  your  absence,  in  that  of  her 
children !  But  she  is  now  at  rest,  and  if  there  be  a  future 
life,  her  mild  virtues  have  surely  entitled  her  to  the  re- 
ward of  pure  and  perfect  felicity.  It  is  for  you  that  I 
feel ;  and  I  can  judge  of  your  sentiments  by  comparing 
them  with  my  own.  I  have  lost,  it  is  true,  an  amiable 
and  affectionate  friend,  whom  I  had  known  and  loved 
above  three  and  twenty  years,  and  whom  1  often  styled 
by  the  endearing  name  of  sister.  But  you  are  deprived 
of  the  companion  of  your  life,  the  wife  of  your  choice, 
and  the  mother  of  your  children — poor  children !  The 


•  The  death  of  Lady  Sheffield. 


358 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


liveliness  of  Maria,  and  the  softness  of  Louisa,  render 
them  alnaost  equally  the  objects  of  my  tenderest  com- 
passion. I  do  not  wish  to  aggravate  your  grief ;  but,  in 
the  sincerity  of  friendship,  J  cannot  hold  a  different 
language.  I  know  the  impotence  of  reason,  and  I  much 
fear  that  the  strength  of  your  character  will  serve  to 
make  a  sharper  and  more  lasting  impression. 

The  only  consolation  in  these  melancholy  trials  to 
which  human  life  is  exposed,  the  only  one  at  least  in 
which  I  have  any  confidence,  is  the  presence  of  a  real 
friend;  and  of  that,  as  far  as  it  depends  on  myself,  you 
shall  not  be  destitute.  I  regret  the  few  days  that  must 
be  lost  in  some  necessary  preparations ;  but  I  trust  that 
to-morrow  se'nnight  (May  the  fifth)  I  shall  be  able  to  set 
forwards  on  my  journey  to  England  ;  and  when  this  let- 
ter reaches  you,  I  shall  be  considerably  advanced  on  my 
way.  As  it  is  yet  prudent  to  keep  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance from  the  banks  of  the  French  Rhine,  I  shall  incline  a 
little  to  the  right,  and  proceed  by  Scaffhausen  and  Stut- 
gard  to  Frankfort  and  Cologne :  the  Austrian  Nether- 
lands are  now  open  and  safe,  and  I  am  sure  of  being 
able  at  least  to  pass  from  Ostend  to  Dover ;  whence, 
without  passing  through  London,  I  shall  pursue  the  direct 
road  to  Sheflield-place.  Unless  I  should  meet  with 
some  unforeseen  accidents  and  delays,  I  hope,  before  the 
end  of  the  month,  to  share  your  solitude,  and  sympathise 
with  your  grief.  All  the  difficulties  of  the  journey,  which 
my  indolence  had  probably  magnified,  have  now  disap- 
peared before  a  stronger  passion  ;  and  you  will  not  be 
sorry  to  hear,  that,  as  far  as  Frankfort  to  Cologne,  I  shall 
enjoy  the  advantage  of  the  society,  the  conversation,  the 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


359 


German  language,  and  the  active  assistance  of  Severy. 
His  attachment  to  me  is  the  sole  motive  which  prompts 
him  to  undertake  this  troublesome  journey :  and  as  soon 
as  he  has  seen  me  over  the  roughest  ground,  he  will  im- 
mediately return  to  Lausanne.  The  poor  young  man 
loved  Lady  S.  as  a  mother,  and  the  whole  family  is 
deeply  affected  by  an  event  which  reminds  them  too 
painfully  of  their  own  misfortune.  Adieu.  Icouidwrite 
volumes,  and  shall  therefore  break  off  abruptly.  I  shall 
write  on  the  road,  and  hope  to  find  a  few  lines  a  poste 
restante  at  Frankfort  and  Brussels.    Adieu ;  ever  yours. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Lausanne,  May,  1793. 

My  dear  Friend, — I  must  write  a  few  lines  before  my 
departure,  though  indeed  I  scarcely  know  what  to  say. 
Nearly  a  fortnight  has  elapsed  since  the  first  melancholy 
tidings,  without  my  having  received  the  slightest  subse- 
quent accounts  of  your  health  and  situation.  Your  own  ' 
silence  announces  too  forcibly  how  much  you  are  in- 
volved in  your  feelings;  and  I  can  but  too  easily  conceive 
that  a  letter  to  me  would  be  more  painful  than  to  an  in- 
different person.  But  that  amiable  man,  Count  Lally, 
might  surely  have  written  a  second  time  ;  but  your  sister, 
who  is  probably  wilh  you  ;  but  Maria, alas  I  poor  Maria! 
I  am  left  in  a  state  of  darkness  to  the  workings  of  my  own 
tancy,  which  imagines  every  thing  that  is  sad  and  shock- 
ing. What  can  I  think  of  for  your  relief  and  comfort? 
I  will  not  expatiate  on  those  common-place  topics,  which 
have  never  dried  a  single  tear ;  but  let  me  advise,  let  me 
urge  you  to  force  yourself  into  business,  as  I  would  fry 


360 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON  ESQ. 


to  force  myself  into  study.  The  mind  must  not  be  idle  ; 
if  it  be  not  exercised  on  external  objects,  it  will  prey  on 
its  own  vitals.  A  thousand  little  arrangements,  which 
must  precede  a  long  journey,  have  postponed  my  depar- 
ture three  or  four  days  beyond  the  term  which  I  had 
first  appointed  ;  but  all  is  now  in  order,  and  I  set  off  to- 
morrow, the  ninth  instant,  with  my  valet  de  chambre,  a 
courier  on  horseback,  and  Severy,  with  his  servant,  as  far 
as  Frankfort.  I  calculate  my  arrival  at  Sheffield-place 
(how  I  dread  and  desire  to  see  that  mansion !)  for  the 
first  week  in  June,  soon  after  this  letter;  but  I  will  try 
to  send  you  some  later  intelligence.  I  never  found  my- 
self stronger  or  in  better  health.  The  German  road  is 
now  cleared,  both  of  enemies  and  allies,  and  though  I 
must  expect  fatigue,  I  have  not  any  apprehensions  of 
danger.  It  is  scarcely  possible  that  you  should  meet  me 
at  Frankfort,  but  I  shall  be  much  disappointed  at  not 
finding  a  line  at  Brussels  or  Ostend.  Adieu.  If  there 
be  any  invisible  guardians,  may  they  watch  over  you 
and  yours !  Adieu. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Frankfort,  May  19th,  1793. 

And  here  I  am,  in  good  health  and  spirits,  after  one  of 
the  easiest,  safest,  and  pleasantest  journies  which  I  ever 
performed  in  my  whole  life;  not  the  appearance  of  an 
enemy,  and  hardly,  the  appearance  of  a  war.  Yet  I 
hear,  as  I  am  writing,  the  cannon  of  the  siege  of  May- 
ence,  at  the  distance  of  twenty  miles  ;  and  long,  very 
long,  will  it  be  heard.  It  is  confessed  on  all  sides,  that 
the  French  fight  with  a  courage  worthy  of  a  better  cause. 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS; 


361 


The  town  of  Mayence  is  strong,  their  artillery  admirable  ; 
they  are  already  reduced  to  horse-flesh,  but  they  have 
still  the  resource  of  eating  the  inhabitants,  and  at  last  of 
eating  one  another ;  and,  if  that  repast  could  be  extended 
to  Paris  and  the  whole  country,  it  might  essentially  con- 
tribute to  the  relief  of  mankind.  Our  operations  are 
carried  on  with  more  than  German  slowness,  and  when 
the  besieged  are  quiet,  the  besiegers  are  perfectly  satis- 
fied with  their  progress.  A  spirit  of  division  undoubtedly 
prevails  ;  and  the  character  of  the  Prussians  for  courage 
and  discipline  is  sunk  lower  than  you  can  possibly  ima- 
gine. Their  glory  has  expired  with  Frederick.  I  am 
sorry  to  have  missed  Lord  Elgin,  who  is  beyond  the 
Rhine  with  the  King  of  Prussia.  As  I  am  impatient,  I 
propose  setting  forwards  to-morrow  afteinoon,  and  shall 
reach  Ostend  in  less  than  eight  days.  The  passage  must 
depend  on  winds  and  packets  ;  and  I  hope  to  find  at  Brus- 
sels or  Dover  a  letter  which  will  direct  me  to  Sheffield- 
place  or  Downing-street.  Severy  goes  back  from  hence. 
Adieu :  I  embrace  the  dear  girls.    Ever  your. 

TO  THE  SAML. 

Brussels,  May  27,  1793. 

This  day,  between  two  and  three  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, I  arrived  at  this  place  in  excellent  preservation. 
My  expedition,  which  is  now  drawing  to  a  close,  has 
been  a  journey  of  perseverance  rather  than  speed,  of 
some  labour  since  Frankfort,  but  without  the  smallest 
degree  of  difficulty  or  danger.  As  I  have  every  morn- 
ing been  seated  in  the  chaise  soon  after  sun-rise,  I  propose 
indulging  to-morrow  till  eleven  o'clock,  and  going  that 


362  LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GliBBON,  ESQ. 


day  no  farther  than  Ghent.  On  Wednesday  the  29th 
instant  I  shall  reach  Ostend  in  good  time,  just  eight  days, 
according  to  my  former  reckoning,  from  Frankfort,  Be- 
yond that  I  can  say  nothing  positive  ;  but  should  the 
winds  be  propitious,  it  is  possible  that  I  may  appear  next 
Saturday,  June  1,  in  Downing-street.  After  that  earliest 
date,  you  will  expect  me  day  by  day  till  I  arrive.  Adieu. 
I  embrace  the  dear  girls,  and  salute  Mrs.  Holroyd.  I 
rejoice  that  you  have  anticipated  my  advice  by  plunging 
into  business ;  but  I  should  now  be  sorry  if  that  business, 
however  important,  detained  us  long  in  town.  I  do  not 
wish  to  make  a  public  exhibition,  and  only  sigh  to  enjoy 
you  and  the  precious  remnant  in  the  solitude  of  Sheffield- 
place.    Ever  yours. 

If  I  am  successful  I  may  outstrip  or  accompany  this 
letter.  Yours  and  Maria's  waited  for  me  here,  and  over- 
paid the  journey. 


The  preceding  letters  intimate  that,  in  return  for  my 
visit  to  Lausanne  in  1791,  Mr.  Gibbon  engaged  to  pass  a 
year  with  me  in  England :  that  the  war  having  rendered 
travelling  exceedingly  inconvenient,  especially  to  a  per- 
son who,  from  his  bodily  infirmities,  required  every 
accommodation,  prevented  his  undertaking  so  formidable 
a  journey  at  the  time  he  proposed. 

The  call  of  friendship,  however,  was  sufficient  to  make 
him  overlook  every  personal  consideration,  when  he 
thought  his  presence  might  prove  a  consolation.  I  must 
ever  regard  it  as  the  most  endearing  proof  of  his  sensi- 
bility, and  of  his  possessing  the  true  spirit  of  friendship, 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


303 


that  after  having  relinquished  the  thought  of  his  intended 
visit,  he  hastened  to  England,  in  spite  of  increasing  im- 
pediments, to  soothe  me  by  the  most  generous  sympathy, 
and  to  alleviate  my  domestic  affliction  ;  neither  his  great 
corpulency,  nor  his  extraordinary  bodily  infirmities,  nor 
any  other  consideration,  could  prevent  him  a  moment 
from  resolving  on  an  undertading  that  might  have  de^ 
terred  the  most  active  young  man.  He,  almost  imme- 
diately, with  alertness  by  no  means  natural  to  him, 
undertook  a  great  circuitous  journey,  along  the  frontiers 
of  an  enemy,  vsforse  than  savage,  within  the  sound  of 
their  cannon,  within  the  range  of  the  light  troops  of  the 
different  armies,  and  through  roads  ruined  by  the  enor- 
mous machinery  of  war. 

The  readiness  with  which  he  engaged  in  this  kind 
office  of  friendship,  at  a  time  when  a  selfish  spirit  might 
have  pleaded  a  thousand  reasons  for  declining  so  hazard- 
ous a  journey,  conspired,  with  the  peculiar  charms  of  his 
society,  to  render  his  arrival  a  cordial  to  my  mind.  I 
had  the  satisfaction  of  finding  that  his  own  delicate  and 
precarious  health  had  not  suffered  in  the  service  of  his 
friend.  He  arrived  in  the  beginning  of  June  at  my 
house  in  Downing-street,  safe  and  in  good  health  ;  and 
after  we  had  passed  about  a  month  together  in  London, 
we  settled  at  Shefiield-place  for  the  summer  ;  where  his 
wit,  learning,  and  cheerful  politeness  delighted  a  great 
variety  of  characters. 

Although  he  was  inclined  to  represent  his  health  as 
better  than  it  really  was,  his  habitual  dislike  to  motion 
appeared  to  increase ;  his  inaptness  to  exercise  confined 
him  to  the  library  and  dining-room,  and  there  he  joined 


364 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


my  friend  Mr.  Frederick  North,  in  pleasant  arguments 
against  exercise  in  general.  He  ridiculed  the  unsettled 
and  restless  disposition,  that  summer,  the  most  uncom- 
fortable, as  he  said,  of  all  seasons,  generally  gives  to 
those  who  have  the  use  of  their  limbs.  Such  arguments 
were  little  required  to  keep  society  within  doors,  when 
his  company  was  only  there  to  be  enjoyed ;  for  neither 
the  fineness  of  the  season,  nor  the  most  promising  parties 
of  pleasure,  could  tempt  the  company  of  either  sex  to 
desert  him. 

Those  who  have  enjoyed  the  society  of  Mr.  Gibbon 
will  agree  with  me,  that  his  conversation  was  still  more 
captivating  than  his  writings.  Perhaps  no  man  ever 
divided  time  more  fairly  between  literary  labour  and 
social  enjoyment ;  and  hence,  probably,  he  derived  his 
peculiar  excellence  of  making  his  very  extensive  know- 
ledge contribute,  in  the  highest  degree,  to  the  use  or 
pleasure  of  those  with  whom  he  conversed.  He  united, 
in  the  happiest  manner  imaginable,  two  characters  which 
are  not  often  found  in  the  same  person,  the  profound 
scholar  and  the  fascinating  companion. 

It  would  be  superfluous  to  attempt  a  very  minute  de- 
lineation of  a  character  which  is  so  distinctly  marked  in 
the  Memoirs  and  Letters.  He  has  described  himself 
without  reserve,  and  with  perfect  sincerity.  The  Let- 
ters, and  especially  the  extracts  from  the  Journal, 
which  could  not  have  been  written  with  any  purpose  of 
being  seen,  will  make  the  reader  perfectly  acquainted  with 
the  man. 

Excepting  a  visit  to  Lord  Egremont  and  Mr.  Hayley, 
whom  he  very  particularly  esteemed,  Mr.  Gibbon  was 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


365 


not  absent  from  Sheffield-place  till  the  beginning  of  Oc- 
tober, when  we  were  reluctantly  obliged  to  part  with 
him,  that  he  might  perform  his  engagement  to  Mrs.  Gib- 
bon at  Bath,  the  widow  of  his  father,  who  had  early  de- 
served, and  invariably  retained,  his  affection.  From 
Bath  he  proceeded  to  Lord  Spenser's  at  Althorp,  a  family 
which  he  always  met  with  uncommon  satisfaction.  He 
continued  in  good  health  during  the  summer,  and  in  ex- 
cellent spirits  (I  never  knew  him  enjoy  better) ;  and 
when  he  went  from  Sheffield-place,  Httle  did  I  imagine 
it  would  be  the  last  time  I  should  have  the  inexpressible 
pleasure  of  seeing  him  there  in  full  possession  of  health. 

The  few  following  short  letters,  though  not  important 
in  themselves,  will  fill  up  this  part  of  the  narrative  better, 
and  more  agreeably,  than  any  thing  I  can  substitute  in 
their  place. 

EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ.  TO  THE  RIGHT  HON.  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 

October  2nd,  1793. 

The  Cork-Street  hotel  has  answered  its  recommenda- 
tion ;  it  is  clean,  convenient,  and  quiet.  My  first  even- 
ing was  passed  at  home  in  a  very  agreeable  tete-a-tete 
with  my  friend  Elmsley.  Yesterday  I  dined  at  Crau- 
furd's  with  an  excellent  set,  in  which  were  Pelham  and 
Lord  Egremont.  I  dine  to-day  with  my  Portuguese 
friend,  Madame  de  Sylva,  at  Greniere's  ;  most  probably 
with  Lady  Webster,  whom  I  met  last  night  at  Devon- 
shire-house ;  a  constant,  though  late,  resort  of  society. 
The  duchess  is  as  good,  and  Lady  Elizabeth  as  ?  educing, 
as  ever.  No  news  whatever.  You  will  see  in  the 
papers  Lord  Herve3r's  memorial.    I  love  vigour,  but  it  is 


366 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


surely  a  strong  a  measure  to  tell  a  gentleman  you  have 
resolved  to  pass  the  winter  in  his  house.  London  is  not 
disagreeable ;  yet  I  shall  probably  leave  it  Saturday,  If 
any  thing  should  occur,  I  will  write.  Adieu ;  ever 
yours. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Sunday  afternoon  I  left  London,  and  lay  at  Reading, 
and  Monday  in  very  good  time  I  reached  this  place 
after  a  very  pleasant  airing ;  and  am  always  so  much 
delighted,  and  improved,  with  this  union  of  ease  and 
motion,  that,  were  not  the  expense  enormous,  I  would 
travel  every  year  some  hundred  miles,  more  especially 
in  England.  I  passed  the  day  with  Mrs.  G.  yesterday. 
In  mind  and  conversation  she  is  just  the  same  as  twenty 
years  ago.  She  has  spirits,  appetite,  legs,  and  eyes,  and 
talks  of  living  till  ninety.*  I  can  say  from  my  heart, 
Amen.  We  dine  at  two,  and  remain  together  till  nine ; 
but,  although  we  have  much  to  say,  I  am  not  sorry  that 
she  talks  of  introducing  a  third  or  fourth  actor.  Lord 
Spenser  expects  me  about  the  20th  ;  but  if  I  can  do  it 
without  offence,  I  shall  steal  away  two  or  three  days 
sooner,  and  you  shall  have  advice  of  my  motions.  The 
troubles  of  Bristol  have  been  serious  and  bloody.  ,  I 
know  not  who  was  in  fault ;  but  I  do  not  like  appeasing 
the  mob  by  the  extinction  of  the  toll,  and  the  removal  of 
the  Hereford  militia,  who  had  done  their  duty.  Adieu. 
The  girls  must  dance  at  Tunbridge.  What  would  dear 
little  aunt  say  if  I  was  to  answer  her  letter  ?  Ever 
yours,  &LC.. 

York-house,  Bath,  October  9tli,  1793. 

*  She  was  then  in  her  eightieth  year.  , 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


3G7 


I  Still  follow  the  old  style,  though  the  Convention 
has  abolished  the  Christian  era,  with  months,  weeks, 
days,  &c. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

York-hcuse,  Bath,  October  13th,  1793. 

I  am  as  ignorant  of  Bath  in  general  as  if  I  were  still  at 
Sheffield.  My  impatience  to  get  away  makes  me  think 
it  better  to  devote  my  whole  time  to  Mrs.  G. ;  and  dear 
little  aunt,  whom  I  tenderly  salute,  will  excuse  me  to  her 
two  friends,  Mr.  Hartley  and  Preston,  if  I  make  little  or 
no  use  of  their  kind  introduction.  Atete-a-tele  of  eight  or 
nine  hours  every  day  is  rather  difficult  to  support ;  yet  I 
do  assure  you,  that  our  conversation  flows  with  more 
ease  and  spirit  when  we  are  alone,  than  when  any  auxili- 
aries are  summoned  to  our  aid.  She  is  indeed  a  wonder- 
ful woman,  and  I  think  all  her  faculties  of  the  mind 
stronsrer  and  more  active  than  I  have  ever  known  them. 
I  have  settled,  that  ten  full  days  may  be  sufficient  for  all 
the  purposes  of  our  interview.  I  should  therefore  depart 
next  Friday,  the  18th  instant,  and  am  indeed  expected 
at  Althorp  on  the  20th ;  but  I  may  possibl)'  reckon  with- 
out my  host,  as  I  have  not  yet  apprised  Mrs.  G.  of  the 
term  of  my  visit ;  and  will  certainly  not  quarrel  with  her 
for  a  short  delay.  I  must  have  some  political  specula- 
tions. The  campaign,  at  least  on  our  side,  seems  to  be 
at  an  end.    Ever  yours. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Althorp  library,  Tuesday,  four  o'clock. 

We  have  so  completely  exhausted  this  morning  anjong 


368 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


the  first  editions  of  Cicero,  that  I  can  mention  only  my 
departure  hence  to-morrow,  the  sixth  instant.  I  shall  lie 
quietly  at  Woburn,  and  reach  London  in  good  time 
Thursday.  By  the  following  post  I  will  write  some- 
what more  largely.  My  slay  in  London  will  depend, 
partly  on  my  amusement,  and  your  being  fixed  at  Sheffield- 
place  ;  unless  you  think  I  can  be  comfortably  arranged 
for  a  week  or  two  with  you  at  Brighton.  The  military 
remarks  seem  good;  but  now  to  what- purpose  !  Adieu. 
I  embrace  and  much  rejoice  in  Louisa's  improvement. 
Lord  Ossory  was  from  home  at  Faming- woods. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

London,  Friday,  Nov.  8th,  four  o'clock. 

Walpole  has  just  delivered  yours,  and  I  hasten  to  the 
direction,  that  you  may  not  be  at  a  loss.  I  will  write 
to-morrow,  but  I  am  now  fatigued,  and  rather  unwell. 
Adieu.    I  have  not  seen  a  soul  except  Elmsley. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

St.  James's  Street,  Nov.  9th,  1793. 

As  I  dropt  yesterday  the  word  unwell,  I  flatter  myself 
that  the  family  would  have  been  a  little  alarmed  by  my 
silence  to-day.  I  am  still  awkward,  though  without  any 
suspicions  of  gout,  and  have  some  idea  of  having  recourse 
to  medical  advice.  Yet  I  creep  out  to-day  in  a  chair,  to 
dine  with  Lord  Lucan.  But  as  it  will  be  literally  my 
first  going  down  stairs,  and  as  scarcely  any  one  is 
apprised  of  my  arrival,  I  know  nothing,  I  have  heard 
nothing,  I  have  nothing  to  say.  My  present  lodging,  a 
house  of  Elmsley's,  is  cheerful,  convenient,  somewhat 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


369 


dear,  but  not  so  much  as  an  hotel :  a  species  of  habitation 
for  which  I  have  not  conceived  any  great  affection. 
Had  you  been  stationary  at  Sheffield,  you  would  have 
seen  me  before  the  twentieth  ;  for  I  am  tired  of  rambling, 
and  pant  for  my  home ;  that  is  to  say,  for  your  house. 
But  whether  I  shall  have  courage  to  brave  *  *  *  *  and 
a  bleak  down,  time  only  can  discover.  Adieu.  I  wish 
you  back  to  Sheffield-place.  The  health  of  dear  Louisa 
is  doubtless  the  first  object ;  but  I  did  not  expect  Brighton 
after  Tunbridge.  Whenever  dear  httle  aunt  is  separate 
from  you,  I  shall  certainly  write  to  her :  but  at  present 
how  is  it  possible  ?    Ever  yours. 

TO  THE  SAME  AT  BRIGHTHELMSTONE. 

St.  James's  Street,  Nov.  11th,  1793. 
I  must  at  length  withdraw  the  veil  before  my  state  of 
health,  though  the  naked  truth  may  alarm  you  more  than 
a  fit  of  the  gout.  Have  you  never  observed,  through  my 
inexpressibles,  a  large  prominency,  which,  as  it  was  not 
at  all  painful,  and  very  little  .troublesome,  I  had  strangely 
neglected  for  many  years?  But  since  my  departure 
from  Sheffield-place  it  has  increased,  most  stupenduously, 
is  increasing,  and  ought  to  be  diminished.  Yesterday  I 
sent  for  Farquhar,  who  is  allowed  to  be  a  very  skilful 
surgeon.  After  viewing  and  palping,  he  very  seriously 
desired  to  call  in  assistance,  and  has  examined  it  again 
to-day  with  Mr.  Cline,  a  surgeon,  as  he  says,  of  the  first 
eminence.  They  both  pronounce  it  a  hydrocele  (a  col- 
lection of  water),  which  must  be  let  out  by  the  operation 
of  tapping;  but  from  its  jnagnitude  and  long  neglect, 
they  think  it  a  most  extraordinary  case,  and  wish  to  have 


370  LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


anoiher  surgeon,  Dr.  Bayley,  present.  If  the  business 
should  go  off  smoothly,  I  shall  be  delivered  from  my 
burthen,  (it  is  almost  as  big  as  a  small  child),  and  walk 
about  in  four  or  five  days  with  a  truss.  But  the  medical 
gentlemen,  who  never  speak  quite  plain,  insinuate  to  me 
the  possibility  of  an  inflammation,  of  fever,  &.c.  I  am 
not  appalled  at  the  thoughts  of  the  operation,  which  is 
fixed  for  Wednesday  next,  twelve  o'clock ;  but  it  has 
occured  to  me  that  you  might  wish  to  be  present,  before 
and  afterwards,  till  the  crisis  was  past ;  and  to  give  you 
that  opportunity,  I  shall  solicit  a  delay  till  Thursday,  or 
even  Friday.  In  the  meanwhile,  I  crawl  about  with 
some  labour,  and  much  indecency,  to  Devonshire-house, 
where  I  left  all  the  fine  ladies  making  flannel  vs^aistcoats  ;* 
Lady  Lucan's,  &c.  Adieu.  Varnish  the  business  for 
the  ladies  ;  yet  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  public ; — the  advan- 
tage of  being  notorious.    Ever  yours. 


Immediately  on  receiving  the  last  letter,  I  went  the  same 
day  from  Brighthelmstone  to  London,  and  was  agreeably 
surprised  to  find  that  Mr.  Gibbon  had  dined  at  Lord 
Lucan's,  and  did  not  return  to  his  lodgings,  where  I  waited 
for  him  till  eleven  o'clock  at  night.  Those  who  have 
seen  him  within  the  last  eight  or  ten  years  must  be  surprised 
to  hear,  that  he  could  doubt  whether  his  disorder  was  ap- 
parent. When  he  returned  to  England  in  1787,  I  was 
greatly  alarmed  by  a  prodigious  increase,  which  I  al- 
ways conceived  to  proceed  from  a  rupture.  I  did  not 
understand  why  he,  who  had  talked  with  me  on  every 

*  For  ilie  soldiers  in  Flanders. 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


371 


other  subject  relative  to  himself  and  his  affairs  without 
reserve,  should  never  in  any  shape  hint  at  a  malady  so 
troublesome ;  but  on  speaking  to  his  valet  de  chambre, 
he  told  me,  Mr.  Gibbon  could  not  bear  the  least  illusion 
to  that  subject,  and  never  would  suffer  him  to  notice  it. 
I  consulted  some  medical  persons,  who  with  me  supposing 
it  to  be  a  rupture,  were  of  opinion  that  nothing  could 
be  done,  and  said  that  he  surely  must  have  had  advice, 
and  of  course  had  taken  all  necessary  precautions.  He 
now  talked  freely  with  me  about  his  disorder ;  which,  he 
said,  began  in  the  year  17G1  ;  that  he  then  consulted  Mr. 
Hawkins,,  the  surgeon,  who  did  not  decide  whether  it 
was  the  beginning  of  a  rupture,  or  an  hydrocele  ;  but  he 
desired  to  see  Mr.  Gibbon  again  when  he  came  to  town. 
Mr.  Gibbon  not  feeling  any  pain,  nor  suffering  any  in- 
convenience, as  he  said,  never  returned  to  Mr.  Hawkins  ; 
and  although  the  disorder  continued  to  increase  gra- 
dually, and  of  late  years  very  much  indeed,  he  never  men- 
tioned it  to  any  person,  however  incredible  it  may  ap- 
pear, from  nil  to  November  1793.  I  told  him,  that  I 
had  always  supposed  there  was  no  doubt  of  its  being  a 
rupture ;  his  answer  was,  that  he  had  never  thought  so, 
and  that  he,  and  the  physicians  who  attended  him,  were 
of  opinion  that  it  was  an  hydrocele.  It  is  now  certain 
that  it  was  originally  a  rupture,  and  that  an  hydrocele 
had  lately  taken  place  in  the  same  part ;  and  it  is  re- 
markable, that  his  legs,  which  had  been  swelled  about 
the  ancle,  particularly  one  of  them,  since  he  had  the 
erysipelas  in  1790,  recovered  their  former  shape  as  soon 
as  the  water  appeared  in  another  part,  which  did  not 
happen  till  between  the  time  he  left  Sheffield-place,  in 


372 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


the  beginning  of  October,  and  his  arrival  at  Althorp,  to- 
wards the  latter  end  of  that  month.  On  the  Thursday- 
following  the  date  of  his  last  letter,  Mr.  Gibbon  was  tap- 
ped for  the  first  time ;  four  quarts  of  transparent  watery 
fluid  were  discharged  by  that  operation.  Neither  inflam- 
mation nor  fever  ensued :  the  tumour  was  diminished  to 
nearly  half  its  size  ;  the  remaining  part  was  a  soft  irregu- 
lar mass.  I  had  been  with  him  two  days  before,  and  I 
continued  with  him  above  a  week  after  the  first  tapping, 
during  which  time  he  enjoyed  his  usual  spirits  ;  and  the 
three  medical  gentlemen  who  attended  him  will  recollect 
his  pleasantry  even  during  ihe  operation.  He  was 
abroad  again  in  a  few  days,  but  the  water  evidently  col- 
lecting very  fast,  it  was  agreed  that  a  second  puncture 
should  be  made  a  fortnight  after  the  first.  Knowing 
that  I  should  be  wanted  at  a  meeting  in  the  country,  he 
pressed  me  to  attend  it ;  and  promised  that  soon  after 
the  second  operation  was  performed  he  would  follow  me 
to  Sheffield-place  :  but  before  he  arrived  I  received  the 
-   two  following  letters. 

ME.  GIBBON  TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AT  BRIGHTON. 

St.  James's  Street,  Nov.  25tli,  1793. 

Though  Farquhar  has  promised  to  write  you  a  line, 
I  conceive  you  may  not  be  sorry  to  hear  directly  from 
me.  The  operation  of  yesterday  was  much  longer,  more 
searching,  and  more  painful  than  the  former  ;  but  it  has 
eased  and  lightened  me  to  a  much  greater  degree.*  No 
inflammation,  no  fever,  a  delicious  night,  leave  to  go 

*  Three  quarts  of  the  same  fluid  as  before  were  discharged. 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


373 


abroad  to  morrow,  and  to  go  out  of  town  when  I  please, 
en  attendant  the  future  measures  of  a  radical  cure.  If 
you  hold  your  intention  of  returning  next  Saturday  to 
Sheffield-place,  I  shall  probably  join  you  about  the  Tues- 
day following,  after  having  passed  two  nights  at  Becken- 
ham.*  The  Devons  are  going  to  Bath,  and  the  hospita- 
able  Craufurd  follows  them.  I  passed  a  delightful  day 
with  Burke ;  an  odd  one  with  Monsignor  Erskine,  the 
Pope's  Nuncio.  Of  public  news,  you  and  the  papers 
know  more  than  I  do.  We  seem  to  have  strong  sea 
and  land  hopes,  nor  do  I  dislike  the  royalists  having 
beaten  the  sans  cullottes  and  taken  Dol.  How  many 
minutes  will  it  take  to  guillotine  the  seventy  three  new 
members  of  the  Convention,  who  are  now  arrested? 
Adieu ;  ever  yours. 

MR.  GIBBON  TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 

St.  James's  Street,  Nov.  30th.  1793. 

It  will  not  be  in  my  power  to  reach  Sheffield-place 
quite  so  soon  as  I  wished  and  expected.  Lord  Auck- 
land informs  me,  that  he  shall  be  at  Lambeth  next  week, 
Tuesday,  Wednesday  and  Thursday.  I  have  therefore 
agreed  to  dine  at  Beckenham  on  Friday.  Saturday  will 
be  spent  there;  and  unless  some  extraordinary  temptation 
should  detain  me  another  day,  you  will  see  me  by  four 
o'clock  Sunday  the  ninth  of  December.  I  dine  to-morrow 
with  the  chancellor  at  Hampstead,  and,  what  I  do  not 
like  at  this  time  of  the  year,  without  a  proposal  to  stay 
all  night.  Yet  I  would  not  refuse,  more  especially  as  1 
had  denied  him  on  a  former  day.    My  health  is  good ; 

.  *  Eden-farm. 


374  LETTERS  FROM  EDWABD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


but  I  shall  have  a  final  interview  with  Farquhar  before 
I  leave  town.  We  are  still  in  darkness  about  Lord 
Howe  and  the  French  ships,  but  hope  seems  to  prepon- 
derate. Adieu.  Nothing  that  relates  to  Louisa  can  be 
forgotten.    Ever  yours. 


Mr.  Gibbon  generally  took  the  opportunity  of  passing 
a  night  or  two  with  his  friend  Lord  Auckland,  at  Eden- 
farm,  (ten  miles  fi'om  London)  on  his  passage  to  Sheffield- 
place  ;  and  notwithstanding  his  indisposition,  he  had 
lately  made  an  excursion  thither  from  London; 
when  he  was  much  pleased  by  meeting  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  of  whom  he  expressed  a  high 
opinion.  He  returned  to  London,  to  dine  with  Lord 
Loughborough,  to  meet  Mr.  Burke,  Mr.  Windham,  and 
particularly  Mr.  Pitt,  with  whom  he  was  not  acquainted  ; 
and  in  his  last  journey  to  Sussex,  he  revisited  Eden- farm, 
and  was  much  gratified  by  the  opportunity  of  again  see- 
ing, during  a  whole  day,  Mr.  Pitt,  who  passed  the  night 
there.  From  Lord  Auckland's,  Mr.  Gibbon  proceeded 
to  Sheffield-place ;  and  his  discourse  was  never  more 
brilliant,  nor  more  entertaining,  than  on  his  arrival.  The 
parrallel  he  drew,  and  the  comparisons  he  made,  between 
the  leading  men  of  this  counti-y,  were  sketched  in  his 
best  manner,  and  were  infinitely  interesting.  However, 
this  last  visit  to  Sheffield-place  became  far  difl^erent  from 
any  he  had  ever  made  before.  That  ready,  cheerful, 
various,  and  illuminating  conversation,  which  we  had 
before  admired  in  him  was  not  always  to  be  found  in  the 
library  or  the  dining-room.    He  moved  with  difficulty, 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


375 


and  retired  from  company  sooner  than  he  had  been-used 
to  do.    On  the  twenty-third  of  December,  his  appetite 
began  to  fail  him.    He  observed  to  me,  that  it  was  a 
very  bad   sign  with  him  when  he  could  not  eat  his 
breakfast,  which  he  had  done  at  all  times  very  Jieartily  ; 
and  this  seems  to  have  been  the  strongest  expression  of 
apprehension  that  he  was  ever  observed  to  utter.  A 
considerable  degree  of  fever  now  made  its  appearance. 
Inflammation  arose  from  the  weight  and  bulk  of  the  tu- 
mour. Water  again  collected  very  fast,  and  when  the  fever 
went  oft",  he  never  entirely  recovered  his  appetite,  even 
for  breakfast.    I  became  very  uneasy  indeed  at  his  situa- 
tion towards  the  end  of  the  month,  and  thought  it  neces- 
sary to  advise  him  to  set  out  for  London.    He  had  be- 
fore settled  his  plan  to  arrive  there  about  the  middle  of 
January.    1  had  company  in  the  house,  and  we  expected 
one  of  his  particular  friends ;  but  he  was  obliged  to 
sacrifice  all  social  pleasure  to  the  immediate  attention 
which  his  health  required.    He  went  to  London  on  the 
seventh  of  January,  and  the  next  day  I  received  the 
following  billet ;  the  last  he  ever  wrote. 

EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESa.  TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD. 

St.  James's  Street,  four  o'clock,  Tuesday. 

'This  date  says  every  thing.  I  was  almost  killed 
between  Sheffield-place  and  East  Grinstead,  by  hard, 
frozen,  long,  and  cross  ruts,  that  would  disgrace  the 
approach  of  an  Indian  wigwam.  The  rest  was  some- 
thing less  painful ;  and  I  reached  this  place  half  dead, 
but  not  seriously  feverish,  or  ill.  I  found  a  dinner  invi- 
tation from  Lord  Lucan ;  but  what  are  dinners  to  me? 


376 


LETTERS  FEOM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


I  wish  they  did  not  know  of  my  departure.  I  catch  the 
flying  post.  What  an  effort!  Adieu,  till  Thursday  or 
Friday." 

By  his  own  desire,  I  did  not  follow  him  till  Thursday 
the  9th.  I  then  found  him  far  from  well.  The  tumour 
more  distended  than  before,  inflamed,  and  ulcerated  in 
several  places.  Remedies  were  applied  to  abate  the 
inflammation  ;  but  it  was  not  thought  proper  to  puncture 
the  tumour  for  a  third  time,  till  Monday  the  13th  of 
January,  when  no  less  than  six  quarts  of  fluid  were  dis- 
charged. He  seemed  much  relieved  by  the  evacuation. 
His  spirits  continued  good.  He  talked,  as  usual,  of  pass- 
ing his  time  at  houses  which  he  had  often  frequented  with 
great  pleasure,  the  Duke  of  Devonshire's,  Mr.  Craufurd's, 
Lord  Spencer's,  Lord  Lucan's,  Sir  Ralph  Payne's,  and 
Mr.  Batt's ;  and  when  I  told  him  that  I  should  not  return 
to  the  country,  as  I  had  intended,  he  pressed  me  to  go  ; 
knowing  I  had  an  engagement  there  on  public  business, 
he  said,  "  you  may  be  back  on  Saturday,  and  I  intend  to 
go  on  Thursday  to  Devonshire-house."  I  had  not  any 
apprehension  that  his  life  was  in  danger,  although  I 
began  to  fear  that  he  might  not  be  restored  to  a  comfort- 
able state,  and  that  motion  would  be  very  troublesome 
to  him  ;  but  he  talked  of  a  radical  cure.  He  said,  that 
it  was  fortunate  the  disorder  had  shown  itself  while  he 
was  in  England,  where  he  might  procure  the  best  assist- 
ance ;  and  if  a  radical  cure  could  not  be  obtained  before 
his  return  to  Lausanne,  there  was  an  able  surgeon  at 
Geneva,  who  could  come  to  tap  him  when  it  should  be 
necessary. 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


377 


On  Tuesday  the  fourteenth,  when  the  risk  of  inflamma- 
tion and  fever  from  the  last  operation  was  supposed  to  be 
past,  as^the  medical  gentlemen  who  attended  him  expressed 
no  fears  for  his  life,  I  went  that  afternoon  part  of  the  way 
to  Sussex,  and  the  following  day  reached  Sheffield-place. 
The  next  morning,  the  sixteenth,  I  received  by  the  post 
a  good  account  of  Mr.  Gibbon,  which  mentioned  also  that 
he  hourly  gained  strength.  In  the  evening  came  a  letter 
by  express,  dated  noon  that  day,  which  acquainted  me 
that  Mr.  Gibbon  had  had  a  violent  attack  the  preceding 
night,  and  that  it  was  not  probable  he  should  live  till  I 
could  come  to  him.  I  reached  his  lodgings  in  St.  James's 
Street  about  midnight,  and  learned  that  my  friend  had 
expired  a  quarter  before  one  o'clock  that  day,  the  ICth 
of  January,  1794. 

After  I  left  him  on  Tuesday  afternoon  the  fourteenth, 
he  saw  some  company.  Lady  Lucan  and  Lady  Spenser, 
and  thought  himself  well  enough  at  night  to  omit  the 
opium  draught,  which  he  had  been  used  to  take  for  some 
time.  He  slept  very  indifferently;  before  nine  the  next 
morning  he  rose,  but  could  not  eai  his  breakfast.  How- 
ever, he  appeared  tolerably  well,  yet  complained  at 
times  of  a  pain  in  his  stomach.  At  one  o'clock,  he  re- 
ceived a  visit  of  an  hour  from  Madame  de  Sylva  ;  and  at 
three,  his  friend,  Mr.  Craufurd,  of  Auchinames  (whom 
be  always  mentioned  with  particular  regard)  called,  and 
stayed  with  him  till  past  five  o'clock.  They  talked,  as 
usual,  on  various  subjects  ;  and  twenty  hours  before  his 
death,  Mr.  Gibbon  happened  to  fall  into  a  conversation, 
not  uncommon  with  him,  on  the  probable  duration  of  his 
life.    He  said,  that  he  thought  himself  a  good  life  for  ten, 


378 


LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 


/  twelve,  or  perhaps  twenty  years.  About  six,  he  ate  the 
wing  of  a  chicken,  and  drank  three  glasses  of  Madeira. 
After  dinner,  he  became  very  uneasy  and  impatient ; 
complained  a  good  deal,  and  appeared  so  weak  that  his 
servant  was  alarmed.  Mr.  Gibbon  had  sent  to  his  friend 
and  relation,  Mr.  Robert  Darell,  whose  house  was  not  far 
distant,  desiring  to  see  him,  and  adding  that  he  had  some- 
thing particular  to  say.  But,  unfortunately,  this  desired 
interview  never  took  place. 

During  the  evening,  he  complained  very  much  of  his 
stomach,  and  of  a  disposition  to  vomit.  Soon  after  nine, 
he  took  his  opium  draught,  and  went  to  bed.  About 
ten,  he  complained  of  much  pain,  and  desired  that  warm 
napkins  might  be  applied  to  his  stomach.  He  almost 
incessantly  expressed  a  sense  of  pain  till  about  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  he  said  he  found  his 
stomach  much  easier.  About  seven,  the  servant  asked, 
whether  he  should  send  for  Mr.  Farquhar?  He  an- 
swered, no  ;  that  he  was  as  well  as  he  had  been  the  day 
before.  At  about  half  past  eight,  he  got  out  of  bed,  and 
said  he  was  "  plus  adroit"  than  he  had  been  for  three 
months  past,  and  got  into  bed  again,  without  assistance, 
better  than  usual.  About  nine  he  said  that  he  would 
rise.  The  servant,  however,  persuaded  him  to  remain  in 
bed  till  Mr.  Farquhar,  who  was  expected  at  eleven,  should 
come.  Till  about  that  hour,  he  spoke  with  great  facility. 
Mr.  Farquhar  came  at  the  time  appointed,  and  he  was 
then  visibly  dying.  Wlien  the  valet  de  chambre  re- 
turned, after  attending  Mr.  Farquhar  out  of  the  room, 
Mr.  Gibbon  said,  "  Pourquoi  est  ce  vouz  me  quittez?" 
This  was  about  half  past  eleven.    At  twelve,  he  drank 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


379 


some  brandy  and  water  from  a  tea-pot,  and  desired  his 
favourite  servant  to  stay  with  him.  These  were  the  last 
words  he  pronounced  articulately.  To  the  last  he  pre- 
served his  senses ;  and  when  he  could  no  longer 
speak,  his  servant  having  asked  a  question,  he  made 
a  sign,  to  show  that  he  understood  him.  He  was  quite 
tranquil,  and  did  not  stir;  his  eyes  half  shut.  About  a 
quarter  before  one,  he  ceased  to  breathe.* 

*  The  body  was  not  opened  till  the  fifth  day  alter  his  death.  It  was 
then  sound,  except  that  a  degree  of  mortification,  not  very  considerable, 
had  taken  place  on  a  part  of  the  colon ;  which,  with  the  whole  of  the 
omentum,  of  a  very  enlarged  size,  had  descended  into  the  scrotum,  forming 
a  bag  that  hung  down  nearly  as  low  as  the  knee.  Since  that  part  had  been 
inflamed  and  ulcerated,  Mr.  Gibbon  could  not  bear  a  truss  ;  and  when  the 
last  six  quarts  of  fluid  were  discharged,  the  colon  and  omentum  descend- 
ing lower,  they,  by  their  weight,  drew  the  mouth  of  the  stomach  down- 
wards to  the  03  pubis,  and  this  probably  was  the  immediate  cause  of  his  death. 

The  following  is  the  account  of  the  appearance  of  the  body,  given  by  an 
eminent  surgeon  who  opened  it: 

"  Aperto  tumore,  qui  ab  inguine  usque  ad  genu  se  extenderat,  observatum 
est  partem  ejus  inferiorem  constare  ex  tunica  vaginali  testis  continenti 
duas  quasi  libras  liquoris  serosi  tincti  sanguine.  Ea  autem  fnit  sacci  illiua 
ampUtudo  at  portioni  liquoris  longe  majori  capiendcB  sufEceret.  In  pos- 
teriori parte  hujus  sacci  testis  situs  ftut.    Hunc  omino  sanum  invenimus. 

"  Partem  tumoris  superiorem  occupaverant  integrum  fere  omentum  et 
major  pars  intestini  coli.  Hae  partes,  sacco  sibi  proprio  inclusae,  sibi  invi- 
cem  et  sacco  suo  aded  arete  adhasserunt  ut  coivisse  viderentur  in  massam 
unam  sohdam  et  irregularem ;  cujus  a  tergo  chorda  spermatica  sedem  saam 
obtinuerat. 

"  In  omento  et  in  intestino  coIo  baud  dubia  recentis  inflammationis  signa 
vidimus,  necnon  maculas  nonnullas  lividi  coloris  hinc  inde  sparsas. 

"  Aperto  abdomine,  ventriculum  invenimus  a  naturali  suo  situ  detractum 
usque  ad  annulum  musculi  obliqui  extemi.  Pylorum  retrorsum  et  quasi 
eursiim  a  duodeno  retractum.  In  hepate  ingentum  numerum  parvorum  tu- 
berculorum.  Vesicam  felleambileadmodum  distentam.  In  cajteris  visceri- 
bus,  examini  an  atomico  subjectis,  nuUa  morbi  vestigia  extiterunt." 


380  LETTERS  FROM  EDWARD  GIBBON,  ESQ. 

The  valet  de  chambre  observed,  that  Mr,  Gibbon  did 
not,  at  any  time,  show  the  least  sign  of  alarm,  or  appre- 
hension of  death ;  and  it  does  not  appear  that  he  ever 
thought  himself  in  danger,  unless  his  desire  to  speak  to 
Mr.  Darell  may  be  considered  in  that  light. 

Perhaps  I  dwell  too  long  on  these  minute  and 
melancholy  circumstances.  Yet  the  close  of  such  a  life 
can  hardly  fail  to  interest  every  reader;  and  I  know  that 
the  public  has  received  a  very  different  and  erroneous 
account  of  my  friend's  last  hours. 

1  can  never  cease  to  feel  regret  that  I  was  not  by  his 
side  at  this  awful  period :  a  regret  so  strong  that  I  can 
express  it  only  by  borrowing  (as  the  eloquent  Mr,  Mason 
has  done  on  a  similar  occasion)  the  forcible  language  of 
Tacitus: — "Mihi  prseter  acerbitatem  amici  erepti,  auget 
msestitiam  quod  assidere  vaietudini,  fovere  deficientem, 
satiari  vultu,  complexu  non  contigit."  It  is  some  con- 
solation to  me,  that  I  have  not,  like  Tacitus,  by  a  long 
absence,  anticipated  the  loss  of  my  friend  several  years 
before  his  decease.  Although  I  had  not  the  mournful 
gratification  of  being  near  him  on  the  day  he  expired, 
yet  during  his  illness  I  had  not  failed  to  attend  him,  with 
that  assiduity  which  his  genius,  his  virtues,  and,  above 
all,  our  long,  uninterrupted,  and  happy  friendship  de- 
manded. 

Postscript. — Mr.  Gibbon's  will  is  dated  the  1st  of  Oc- 
ber,  1791,  just  before  I  left  Lausanne;  he  distinguishes 
me,  as  usual,  in  the  most  flattering  manner : 

"  I  constitute  and  appoint  the  Right  Honourable  John 
Lord  Sheffield,  Edward  Darell,  Esquire,  and  John  Thomas 


TO  LORD  SHEFFIELD  AND  OTHERS. 


381 


Batt,  Esquire,  to  be  the  executors  (3f  this  my  last  will  and 
testament ;  and  as  the  execution  of  this  trust  will  not  be 
attended  with  much  difficulty  or  trouble,  I  shall  indulge 
these  gentlemen  in  the  pleasure  of  this  last  disinterested 
service,  without  wronging  my  feeling  or  oppressing  my 
heir,  by  too  light  or  too  weighty  a  testimony  of  my  grati- 
tude. My  obligations  to  the  long  and  active  friendship 
of  Lord  Sheffield,  1  could  never  sufficiently  repay." 

He  then  observes,  that  the  Right  Hon.  Lady  Eliot,  of 
Port  Eliot  is  his  nearest  relation  on  his  father's  side  ;  but 
that  her  three  sons  are  in  such  prosperous  circumstances, 
that  he  may  well  be  excused  from  making  the  two  chil- 
dren of  his  late  uncle.  Sir  Stanier  Porten,  his  heirs,  they 
being  in  a  very  different  situation.  He  bequeathes  an- 
nuities to  two  old  servants  ;  three  thousand  pounds,  and 
his  furniture,  plate,  &c.  at  Lausanne,  to  Mr.  Wilhelm  de 
Severy ;  one  hundred  pounds  to  the  poor  of  Lausanne, 
and  fifty  guineas  each  to  the  following  persons :  Lady 
Sheffield  and  daughters,  Maria  and  Louisa,  Madame  and 
Madamoiselle  de  Severy,  the  Count  de  Schomberg, 
Mademoiselle  la  Chanoinesse  de  Poller,  and  M.  le 
Ministre  Le  Vade,  for  the  purchase  of  some  token  which 
may  remind  them  of  a  sincere  friend.  The  remains  of 
Mr.  Gibbon  were  deposited  in  Lord  Sheffield's  family 
burial-place  in  Sussex. 


FINIS. 


• 


13B94YB  17BJ 

12-12-02  32180     MS  W 


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